UC-NRLF 


by    H.  H.  BOYESEN. 


^oH  1 


'  V- 


BOYHOOD  IN   NORWAY 


NORS ELAND   SERIES 


WOROELAND  TALES.     Illustrated.     $1.25. 

THE  MODERN  VIKINGS.     Stories  of  Life  and  Sport  m 
Xhe  Northland.     Illustrated.     $1.25. 

AGAINST    HEAVY    ODDS,  AND  A    FEARLESS  TRIO. 

Illustrated.     $1.25, 

BOYHOOD    IN    NORWAY.      Stories  of  Boy  J  .tfe  >rx  t^0 
Land  of  the  Midnight  S>in.     Illustrated.     $V?5. 


THE    BRAVEST    BOY    IN    NORWAY. 


THE  NORSELAND  SERIES 


BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 


Stories  of  Boy-Life  in  the  Land 
OF  THE  Midnight  Sun 


BY 

HJALMAR  HJORTH  BOYESEN 


ILLUSTRATED 


FIFTH  EDITION 


NEW   YORK 
CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S   SONS 
1899 


Copyright,  1892,  by 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


«      •  •  • 

•  •    •  • 

•  •     •  •• 
•      •  •• 


•  • 


*     *  •     •     *  • 
•    •••••,•»"•••       •      • 

•  •••    ::  ..:.•••, 


TROW    DIRECTORV 

fRINTINli  »ND   BOOKBINDING  COMPANY 

NEW   YUKK 


NOTE 

The  Author's  acknowledgments  are  due  to 
Messrs.  Harper  &  Brothers,  the  publishers  of  Har- 
per s  Young  People,  in  which  magazine  three  of  the 
stones  in  this  volume,  "  The  Wonder  Child," 
»'  Bonnyboy,"  and  *'  The  Child  of  Luck,"  first  ap- 
peared. 


-      CS  <^i     -"^     \ 


CONTENTS 


The  Battle  of  the  Rafts,    . 

Biceps  Grimlund's  Christmas  Vacation, 

The  Nixy's  Strain, 

The  Wonder  Child, 

"The  Sons  of  the  Vikings," 

Paul  Jespersen's  Masquerade, 

Lady  Clare,      .... 

Bonnyboy,  .... 

The  Child  of  Luck, 

The  Bear  that  had  a  Bank  Account, 


29 

58 

78 

96 

128 

142 

179 

201 

227 


LIST  OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


The  Bravest  Boy  in  Norway, 


The  War  Begun 

Nils  asks  the  School-master  for  His  Fiddle, 

"  Pull  out  the  Reefs  !  " 

The  Sons  of  the  Vikings  rushed  Forward, 

To  the  Rescue, 

Paul  comes  Down  the  Chimney,    . 
"Will  You  now  sit  Down?" 


Frontispiece 

FACING    PAGE 

JO 


62 
92 

112 
126 

188 


THE   BATTLE   OF  THE   RAFTS 

I. 

,   THE   ORIGIN   OF   THE   WAR 

A  DEADLY  feud  was  raging  among  the  boys  of 
Numedale.  The  East-Siders  hated  the  West-Siders, 
and  thrashed  them  when  they  got  a  chance ;  and 
the  West-Siders,  when  fortune  favored  them,  re- 
turned the  compliment  with  interest.  It  required 
considerable  courage  for  a  boy  to  venture,  unat- 
tended by  comrades,  into  the  territory  of  the  en- 
emy; and  no  one  took  the  risk  unless  dire  neces- 
sity compelled  him. 

The  hostile  parties  had  played  at  war  so  long 
that  they  had  forgotten  that  it  was  play ;  and  now 
were  actually  inspired  with  the  emotions  which 
they  had  formerly  simulated.  Under  the  leader- 
ship of  their  chieftains,  Halvor  Reitan  and  Viggo 
Hook,  they  held  councils  of  war,  sent  out  scouts, 
planned  midnight  surprises,  and  fought  at  times 
mimic  battles.  I  say  mimic  battles,  because  no  one 
was  ever  killed  ;  but  broken  heads  and  bruised  limbs 
many  a  one  carried  home  from  these  engagements. 


(     c^     ^        c 


r  '^        *   c 

BdfflOOb    'AV  NO/^WAY 


and  unhappily  one  boy,  named  Peer  Oestmo,  had 
an  eye  put  out  by  an  arrow. 

It  was  a  great  consolation  to  him  that  he  became 
a  hero  to  all  the  VVest-Siders  and  was  promoted  for 
bravery  in  the  field  to  the  rank  of  first  lieutenant. 
He  had  the  sympathy  of  all  his  companions  in  arms 
and  got  innumerable  bites  of  apples,  cancelled  post- 
age stamps,  and  colored  advertising-labels  in  token 
of  their  esteem. 

But  the  principal  effect  of  this  first  serious  wound 
was  to  invest  the  war  with  a  breathless  and  all-ab- 
sorbing interest.  It  was  now  no  longer  "  make  be- 
lieve," but  deadly  earnest.  Blood  had  flowed; 
insults  had  been  exchanged  in  due  order,  and  of- 
fended honor  cried  for  vengeance. 

It  was  fortunate  that  the  river  divided  the  West- 
Siders  from  the  East-Siders,  or  it  would  have  been 
difficult  to  tell  what  might  have  happened.  Viggo 
Hook,  the  West-Side  general,  was  a  handsome, 
high-spirited  lad  of  fifteen,  who  was  the  last  person 
to  pocket  an  injury,  as  long  as  red  blood  flowed  in 
his  veins,  as  he  was  wont  to  express  it.  He  was 
the  eldest  son  of  Colonel  Hook  of  the  regular  army, 
and  meant  some  day  to  be  a  Von  Moltke  or  a  Na- 
poleon. He  felt  in  his  heart  that  he  was  destined 
for  something  great ;  and  in  conformity  with  this 
conviction  assumed  a  superb  behavior,  which  his 
comrades  found  very  admirable. 

He  had  the  gift  of  leadership  in  a  marked  degree. 


THE  BATTLE    OF   THE   RAFTS  3 

and  established  his  authority  by  a  due  mixture  of 
kindness  and  severity.  Those  boys  whom  he  hon- 
ored with  his  confidence  were  absolutely  attached 
to  him.  Those  whom,  with  magnificent  arbitrari- 
ness, he  punished  and  persecuted,  felt  meekly  that 
they  had  probably  deserved  it ;  and  if  they  had  not, 
it  was  somehow  in  the  game. 

There  never  was  a  more  absolute  king  than 
Viggo,  nor  one  more  abjectly  courted  and  ad- 
mired. And  the  amusing  part  of  it  was  that  he 
was  at  heart  a  generous  and  good-natured  lad,  but 
possessed  with  a  lofty  ideal  of  heroism,  which  re- 
quired above  all  things  that  whatever  he  said  or  did 
must  be  striking.  He  dramatized,  as  it  were,  every 
phrase  he  uttered  and  every  act  he  performed,  and 
modelled  himself  alternately  after  Napoleon  and 
Wellington,  as  he  had  seen  them  represented  in 
the  old  engravings  which  decorated  the  walls  in 
his  father's  study. 

He  had  read  much  about  heroes  of  war,  ancient 
and  modern,  and  he  lived  about  half  his  own  life 
imagining  himself  by  turns  all  sorts  of  grand  char- 
acters from  history  or  fiction. 

His  costume  was  usually  in  keeping  with  his  own 
conception  of  these  characters,  in  so  far  as  his 
scanty  opportunities  permitted.  An  old,  broken 
sword  of  his  father's,  which  had  been  polished  un- 
til it  "flashed"  properly,  was  girded  to  a  brass- 
mounted   belt   about   his  waist ;  an  ancient,  gold- 


4  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

braided,  military  cap,  wliich  was  much  too  large, 
covered  his  curly  head ;  and  four  tarnished  brass 
buttons,  displaying  the  Golden  Lion  of  Norway, 
gave  a  martial  air  to  his  blue  jacket,  although  the 
rest  were  plain  horn. 

But  quite  independently  of  his  poor  trappings 
Viggo  vv^as  to  his  comrades  an  august  personage.  I 
doubt  if  the  Grand  Vizier  feels  more  flattered  and 
gratified  by  the  favor  of  the  Sultan  than  little  Mar- 
cus Henning  did,  when  Viggo  condescended  to  be 
civil  to  him. 

Marcus  was  small,  round-shouldered,  spindle- 
shanked,  and  freckle-faced.  His  hair  was  coarse, 
straight,  and  the  color  of  maple  sirup;  his  nose  was 
broad  and  a  little  flattened  at  the  point,  and  his 
clothes  had  a  knack  of  never  fitting  him.  They 
were  made  to  grow  in  and  somehow  he  never  caught 
up  with  them,  he  once  said,  with  no  intention  of 
being  funny.  His  father,  who  was  Colonel  Hook's 
nearest  neighbor,  kept  a  modest  country  shop,  in 
which  you  could  buy  anything,  from  dry  goods  and 
groceries  to  shoes  and  medicines.  You  would  have 
to  be  very  ingenious  to  ask  for  a  thing  which  Hen- 
ning could  not  supply.  The  smell  in  the  store  car- 
ried out  the  same  idea  ;  for  it  was  a  mixture  of  all 
imaginable  smells  under  the  sun. 

Now,  it  was  the  chief  misery  of  Marcus  that, 
sleeping,  as  he  did,  in  the  room  behind  the  store,  he 
had  become  so  impregnated  with  this  curious  com- 


THE   BATTLE    OF   THE   RAFTS  5 

posite  smell  that  it  followed  him  like  an  odoriferous 
halo,  and  procured  him  a  number  of  unpleasant 
nicknames.  The  principal  ingredient  was  salted 
herring;  but  there  was  also  a  suspicion  of  tarred 
ropes,  plug  tobacco,  prunes,  dried  codfish,  and  oiled 
tarpaulin. 

It  was  not  so  much  kindness  of  heart  as  respect 
for  his  own  dignity  which  made  Viggo  refrain 
from  calling  Marcus  a  "  INIuskrat "  or  a  "  Smelling- 
Bottle."  And  yet  Marcus  regarded  this  gracious 
forbearance  on  his  part  as  the  mark  of  a  noble  soul. 
He  had  been  compelled  to  accept  these  offensive 
nicknames, "  and,  finding  rebellion  vain,  he  had 
finally  acquiesced  in  them. 

He  never  loved  to  be  called  a  "  Muskrat,"  though 
he  answered  to  the  name  mechanically.  But  when 
Viggo  addressed  him  as  "  base  minion,"  in  his  wrath, 
or  as  "  Sergeant  Henning,"  in  his  sunnier  moods, 
Marcus  felt  equally  complimented  by  both  terras, 
and  vowed  in  his  grateful  soul  eternal  allegiance 
and  loyalty  to  his  chief.  He  bore  kicks  and  cuffs 
with  the  same  admirable  equanimity ;  never  com- 
plained when  he  was  thrown  into  a  dungeon  in  a 
deserted  pigsty  for  breaches  of  discipline  of  which  he 
was  entirely  guiltless,  and  trudged  uncomplainingly 
through  rain  and  sleet  and  snow,  as  scout  or  spy,  or 
what-not,  at  the  behest  of  his  exacting  commander. 

It  was  all  so  very  real  to  him  that  he  never 
would  have  thought  of  doubting  the  importance  of 


6  BOYHOOD  Ihr  NORWAY 

his  mission.  He  was  rather  honored  by  the  trust 
reposed  in  him,  and  was  only  intent  upon  earning  a 
look  or  word  of  scant  approval  from  the  superb  per- 
sonage whom  he  worshipped. 

Halvor  Reitan,  the  chief  of  the  East-Sidcrs,  was 
a  big,  burly  peasant  lad,  with  a  pimpled  face,  fierce 
blue  eyes,  and  a  shock  of  towy  hair.  But  he  had 
muscles  as  hard  as  twisted  ropes,  and  sinews  like  steel. 

He  had  the  reputation,  of  which  he  was  very 
proud,  of  being  the  strongest  boy  in  the  valley,  and 
though  he  was  scarcely  sixteen  years  old,  he  boasted 
that  he  could  whip  many  a  one  of  twice  his  years. 
He  had,  in  fact,  been  so  praised  for  his  strength 
that  he  never  neglected  to  accept,  or  even  to  create, 
opportunities  for  displaying  it. 

His  manner  was  that  of  a  bully;  but  it  was  van- 
ity and  not  malice  which  made  him  always  spoil 
for  a  fight.  He  and  Viggo  Hook  had  attended  the 
parson's  "  Confirmation  Class  "  together,  and  it  was 
there  their  hostility  had  commenced. 

Halvor,  who  conceived  a  dislike  of  the  tall,  rather 
dainty,  and  disdainful  Viggo,  with  his  aquiline  nose 
and  clear,  aristocratic  features,  determined,  as  he 
expressed  it,  to  take  him  down  a  peg  or  two  ;  and 
the  more  his  challenges  were  ignored  the  more 
persistent  he  grew  in  his  insults. 

He  dubbed  Viggo  "  Missy."  He  ran  against 
him  with  such  violence  in  the  hall  that  he  knocked 
his  head  against  the  wainscoting ;  he  tripped  him 


THE  BATTLE    OF   THE   RAFTS  7 

up  on  the  stairs  by  means  of  canes  and  sticks ;  and 
he  hired  his  partisans  who  sat  behind  Viggo  to 
stick  pins  into  him,  while  he  recited  his  lessons. 
And  when  all  these  provocations  proved  unavailing 
he  determined  to  dispense  with  any  pretext,  but 
simply  thrash  his  enemy  within  an  inch  of  his  life 
at  the  first  opportunity  which  presented  itself.  He 
grew  to  hate  Viggo  and  was  always  aching  to  mo- 
lest him. 

Halvor  saw  plainly  enough  that  Viggo  despised 
him,  and  refused  to  notice  his  challenges,  not  so 
much  because  he  was  afraid  of  him,  as  because  he 
regarded  himself  as  a  superior  being  who  could  af- 
ford to  ignore  insults  from  an  inferior,  without  loss 
of  dignity. 

During  recess  the  so-called  "genteel  boys,"  who 
had  better  clothes  and  better  manners  than  the 
peasant  lads,  separated  themselves  from  the  rest, 
and  conversed  or  played  with  each  other.  No  one 
will  wonder  that  such  behavior  was  exasperating  to 
the  poorer  boys.  I  am  far  from  defending  Viggo's 
behavior  in  this  instance.  He  was  here,  as  every- 
where, the  acknowledged  leader ;  and  therefore 
more  cordially  hated  than  the  rest.  It  was  the 
Roundhead  hating  the  Cavalier ;  and  the  Cavalier 
making  merry  at  the  expense  of  the  Roundhead. 

There  was  only  one  boy  in  the  Confirmation 
Class  who  was  doubtful  as  to  what  camp  should 
claim  him,  and  that  was  little  Marcus  Henning. 


8  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

He  was  a  kind  of  amphibious  animal  who,  as  he 
thought,  really  belonged  nowhere.  His  father  was 
of  peasant  origin,  but  by  his  prosperity  and  his  oc- 
cupation had  risen  out  of  the  class  to  which  he  was 
formerly  attached,  without  yet  rising  into  the  ranks 
of  the  gentry,  who  now,  as  always,  looked  with 
scorn  upon  interlopers.  Thus  it  came  to  pass  that 
little  Marcus,  whose  inclinations  drew  him  toward 
Viggo's  party,  was  yet  forced  to  associate  with  the 
partisans  of  Halvor  Reitan. 

It  was  not  a  vulgar  ambition  "  to  pretend  to  be 
better  than  he  was  "  which  inspired  Marcus  with  a 
desire  to  change  his  allegiance,  but  a  deep,  unrea- 
soning admiration  for  Viggo  Hook.  He  had  never 
seen  any  one  who  united  so  many  superb  qualities, 
nor  one  who  looked  every  inch  as  noble  as  he  did. 

It  did  not  discourage  him  in  the  least  that  his 
first  approaches  met  with  no  cordial  reception.  His 
offer  to  communicate  to  Viggo  where  there  was  a 
hawk's  nest  was  coolly  declined,  and  even  the  at- 
tractions of  fox  dens  and  rabbits'  burrows  were  val- 
iantly resisted.  Better  luck  he  had  with  a  pair  of 
fan-tail  pigeons,  his  most  precious  treasure,  which 
Viggo  rather  loftily  consented  to  accept,  for,  like 
most  genteel  boys  in  the  valley,  he  was  an  ardent 
pigeon-fancier,  and  had  long  vainly  importuned  his 
father  to  procure  him  some  of  the  rarer  breeds. 

He  condescended  to  acknowledge  Marcus's  greet- 
ing after  that,  and  to  respond  to  his  diffident  "  Good- 


THE   BATTLE    OF   THE   RAFTS  9 

morning"  and  "Good-evening,"  and  ivlarcus  was 
duly  grateful  for  such  favors.  He  continued  to  woo 
his  idol  with  raisins  and  ginger-snaps  from  the  store, 
and  other  delicate  attentions,  and  bore  the  snubs 
which  often  fell  to  his  lot  with  humility  and  patience. 

But  an  event  soon  occurred  which  was  destined 
to  change  the  relations  ot  the  two  boys.  Halvor 
Reitan  called  a  secret  meeting  of  his  partisans, 
amoncr  whom  he  made  the  mistake  to  include  Mar- 
cus,  and  aa;reed  with  them  to  lie  in  ambush  at  the 
bend  of  the  road,  where  it  entered  the  forest,  and  at- 
tack Vieso  Hook  and  his  followers.  Then,  he  ob- 
served,  he  would  "  make  him  dance  a  jig  that  would 
take  the  starch  out  of  him." 

The  others  declared  that  this  would  be  capital 
fun,  and  enthusiastically  promised  their  assistance. 
Each  one  selected  his  particular  antipathy  to  thrash, 
though  all  showed  a  marked  preference  for  Viggo, 
whom,  however,  for  reason  of  politeness,  they  were 
obliged  to  leave  to  the  chief.  Only  one  boy  sat 
silent,  and  made  no  offer  to  thrash  anybody,  and 
that  was  Marcus  Henning. 

"  Well,  Muskrat,"  cried  Halvor  Reitan,  "  whom 
are  you  going  to  take  on  your  conscience  ?  " 

*'  No  one,"  said  Marcus. 

"  Put  the  Muskrat  in  your  pocket,  Halvor,"  sug- 
gested one  of  the  boys ;  "  he  is  so  small,  and  he  has 
got  such  a  hard  bullet  head,  you  might  use  him  as  a 
club." 


lO  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

"  Well,  one  thing  is  sure,"  shouted  Halvor,  as  a 
dark  suspicion  shot  through  his  brain,  "  if  you 
don't  keep  mum,  you  will  be  a  mighty  sick  coon 
the  day  after  to-morrow." 

Marcus  made  no  reply,  but  got  up  quietly,  pulled 
a  rubber  sling  from  his  pocket,  and  began,  with  the 
most  indifferent  manner  in  the  world,  to  shoot  stones 
down  the  river.  He  managed  during  this  exercise, 
which  everybody  found  perfectly  natural,  to  get  out 
of  the  crowd,  and,  v/ithout  seeming  to  have  any  pur- 
pose whatever,  he  continued  to  put  a  couple  of  hun- 
dred yards  between  himself  and  his  companion. 

"  Look  a-here,  Muskrat,"  he  heard  Halvor  cry, 
"you  promised  to  keep  mum." 

Marcus,  instead  of  answering,  took  to  his  heels 
and  ran. 

"  Boys,  the  scoundrel  is  going  to  betray  us  ! " 
screamed  the  chief.  "  Now  come,  boys !  We've 
got  to  catch  him,  dead  or  alive." 

A  volley  of  stones,  big  and  little,  was  hurled  after 
the  fugitive,  who  now  realizing  his  position  ran  for 
dear  life.  The  stones  hailed  down  round  about 
him;  occasionally  one  vicious  missile  would  whiz 
past  his  ear,  and  send  a  cold  shudder  through  him. 
The  tramp  of  his  pursuers  sounded  nearer  and  nearer, 
and  his  one  chance  of  escape  was  to  throw  himself 
into  the  only  boat,  which  he  saw  on  this  side  of  the 
river,  and  push  out  into  the  stream  before  he  was 
overtaken. 


THE    WAR    BEGUN. 


c    c    c  c  c    c 


THE  BATTLE    OF   THE   RAFTS  II 

He  had  his  doubts  as  to  whether  he  could  accom- 
pHsh  this,  for  the  blood  rushed  and  roared  in  his 
ears,  the  hill-side  billowed  under  his  feet,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  the  trees  were  all  running  a  race  in  the 
opposite  direction,  in  order  to  betray  him  to  his 
enemies. 

A  stone  gave  him  a  thump  in  the  back,  but  though 
he  felt  a  gradual  heat  spreading  from  the  spot  which 
it  hit,  he  was  conscious  of  no  pain. 

Presently  a  larger  missile  struck  him  in  the  neck, 
and  he  heard  a  breathless  snorting  close  behind  him. 
That  was  the  end;  he  gave  himself  up  for  lost,  for 
those  boys  would  have  no  mercy  on  him  if  they 
captured  him. 

But  in  the  next  moment  he  heard  a  fall  and  an 
oath,  and  the  voice  was  that  of  Halvor  Reitan.  He 
breathed  a  little  more  freely  as  he  saw  the  river 
run  with  its  swelling  current  at  his  feet.  Quite 
mechanically,  without  clearly  knowing  what  he  did, 
he  sprang  into  the  boat,  grabbed  a  boat-hook,  and 
with  three  strong  strokes  pushed  himself  out  into 
the  deep  water. 

At  that  instant  a  dozen  of  his  pursuers  reached 
the  river  bank,  and  he  saw  dimly  their  angry  faces 
and  threatening  gestures,  and  heard  the  stones  drop 
into  the  stream  about  him.  Fortunately  the  river 
was  partly  dammed,  in  order  to  accumulate  water 
for  the  many  saw-mills  under  the  falls.  It  would 
therefore  have  been  no  very  difficult  feat  to  paddle 


12  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

across,  if  his  aching  arms  had  had  an  atom  of  strength 
left  in  them.  As  soon  as  he  was  beyond  the  reach 
of  flying  stones  he  seated  himself  in  the  stern,  took 
an  oar,  and  after  having  bathed  his  throbbing  fore- 
head in  the  cold  water,  managed,  in  fifteen  minutes, 
to  make  the  further  bank.  Then  he  dragged  him- 
self wearily  up  the  hill-side  to  Colonel  Hook's  man- 
sion, and  when  he  had  given  his  message  to  Viggo, 
fell  into  a  dead  faint. 

How  could  Viggo  help  being  touched  by  such 
devotion  ?  He  had  seen  the  race  through  a  field- 
glass  from  his  pigeon-cot,  but  had  been  unable  to 
make  out  its  meaning,  nor  had  he  remotely  dreamed 
that  he  was  himself  the  cause  of  the  cruel  chase. 
He  called  his  mother,  who  soon  perceived  that  Mar- 
cus's coat  was  saturated  with  blood  in  the  back,  and 
undressing  him,  she  found  that  a  stone,  hurled  by  a 
sling,  had  struck  him,  slid  a  few  inches  along  the 
rib,  and  had  lodged  in  the  fleshy  part  of  his  left  side. 

A  doctor  was  now  sent  for;  the  stone  was  cut  out 
without  difficulty,  and  Marcus  was  invited  to  re- 
main as  Viggo's  guest  until  he  recovered.  He  felt 
so  honored  by  this  invitation  that  he  secretly  prayed 
he  might  remain  ill  for  a  month ;  but  the  wound 
showed  an  abominable  readiness  to  heal,  and  before 
three  days  were  past  Marcus  could  not  feign  any  ail- 
ment which  his  face  and  eye  did  not  belie. 

He  then,  with  a  heavy  heart,  betook  himself 
homeward,  and  installed  himself  once  more  among 


THE   BATTLE    OF   THE   RAFTS  13 

his  accustomed  smells  behind  the  store,  and  pon- 
dered sadly  on  the  caprice  of  the  fate  which  had 
made  Viggo  a  high-nosed,  handsome  gentleman, 
and  him  —  Marcus  Henning  —  an  under-grown, 
homely,  and  unrefined  drudge.  But  in  spite  of  his 
failure  to  answer  this  question,  there  was  joy  within 
him  at  the  thought  that  he  had  saved  this  handsome 
face  of  Viggo's  from  disfigurement,  and — who  could 
know  ? — perhaps  would  earn  a  claim  upon  his  grati- 
tude. 

It  was  this  series  of  incidents  which  led  to  the 
war  between  the  East-Siders  and  the  West-Siders. 
It  was  a  mere  accident  that  the  partisans  of  Viggo 
Hook  lived  on  the  west  side  of  the  river,  and  those 
of  Halvor  Reitan  mostly  on  the  east  side. 

Viggo,  who  had  a  chivalrous  sense  of  fair  play, 
would  never  have  molested  any  one  without  good 
cause ;  but  now  his  own  safety,  and,  as  he  persuaded 
himself,  even  his  life,  was  in  danger,  and  he  had  no 
choice  but  to  take  measures  in  self-defence.  He 
surrounded  himself  with  a  trusty  body-guard,  which 
attended  him  wherever  he  went.  He  sent  little 
Marcus,  in  whom  he  recognized  his  most  devoted 
follower,  as  scout  into  the  enemy's  territory,  and 
swelled  his  importance  enormously  by  lending  him 
his  field-glass  to  assist  him  in  his  perilous  observa- 
tions. 

Occasionally  an  unhappy  East-Sider  was  captured 
on  the  west  bank  of  the  river,  court-martialed,  and, 


14  BO  YHO OD  IN  NOR  WA  V 

with  much  solemnity,  sentenced  to  death  as  a  spy, 
but  paroled  for  an  indefinite  period,  until  it  should 
suit  his  judges  to  execute  the  sentence.  The  East- 
Siders,  when  they  captured  a  West-Sider,  went 
to  work  with  less  ceremony  ;  they  simply  thrashed 
their  captive  soundly  and  let  him  run,  if  run  he 
could. 

Thus  months  passed.  The  parson's  Confirmation 
Class  ceased,  and  both  the  opposing  chieftains  were 
confirmed  on  the  same  day ;  but  Viggo  stood  at  the 
head  of  the  candidates,  while  Halvor  had  his  place 
at  the  bottom.* 

During  the  following  winter  the  war  was  prose- 
cuted with  much  zeal,  and  the  West-Siders,  in  imi- 
tation of  Robin  Hood  and  his  Merry  Men,  armed 
themselves  with  cross-bows,  and  lay  in  ambush  in 
the  underbrush,  aiming  their  swift  arrows  against 
any  intruder  who  ventured  to  cross  the  river. 

Nearly  all  the  boys  in  the  valley  between  twelve 
and  sixteen  became  enlisted  on  the  one  side  or  the 
other,  and  there  were  councils  of  war,  marches,  and 
counter-marches  without  number,  occasional  skir- 
mishes, but  no  decisive  engagements.  Peer  Oestmo, 
to  be  sure,  had  his  eye  put  out  by  an  arrow,  as  has 
already  been  related,  for  the  East-Siders  were  not 

*  In  Norway  confirmation  is  always  preceded  by  a  public  exami- 
nation of  the  candidates  in  the  aisle  of  the  church.  The  order  in 
which  they  are  arranged  is  supposed  to  indicate  their  attainments,  but 
does,  as  a  rule,  indicate  the  rank  and  social  position  of  their  parents. 


THE  BATTLE    OF   THE   RAFTS  1 5 

slow  to  imitate  the  example  of  their  enemies,  in 
becoming  expert  archers. 

Marcus  Henning  was  captured  by  a  hostile  out- 
post, and  was  being  conducted  to  the  abode  of  the 
chief,  when,  by  a  clever  stratagem,  he  succeeded  in 
making  his  escape. 

The  East-Siders  despatched,  under  a  flag  of  truce, 
a  most  insulting  caricature  of  General  Viggo,  rep- 
resenting him  as  a  rooster  that  seemed  on  the  point 
of  bursting  with  an  excess  of  dignity. 

These  were  the  chief  incidents  of  the  winter, 
though  there  were  many  others  of  less  consequence 
that  served  to  keep  the  boys  in  a  delightful  state  of 
excitement.  They  enjoyed  the  war  keenly,  though 
they  pretended  to  themselves  that  they  were  be- 
ing ill-used  and  suffered  terrible  hardships.  They 
grumbled  at  their  duties,  brought  complaints  against 
their  ofificers  to  the  general,  and  did,  in  fact,  all  the 
things  that  real  soldiers  would  have  been  likely  to 
do  under  similar  circumstances. 


11. 

THE   CLASH   OF  ARMS 

When  the  spring  is  late  in  Norway,  and  the  heat 
comes  with  a  sudden  rush,  the  mountain  streams 
plunge  with  a  tremendous  noise  down  into  the  val- 
leys, and  the  air  is  filled    far  and   near  with   the 


J 6  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

boom  and  roar  of  rushing  waters.  The  glaciers 
groan,  and  send  their  milk-white  torrents  down  to- 
ward the  ocean.  The  snow-patches  in  the  forest 
glens  look  gray  and  soiled,  and  the  pines  perspire  a 
delicious  resinous  odor  which  cheers  the  soul  with 
the  conviction  that  spring  has  come. 

But  the  peasant  looks  anxiously  at  the  sun  and 
the  river  at  such  times,  for  he  knows  that  there 
is  danger  of  inundation.  The  lumber,  which  the 
spring  floods  set  afloat  in  enormous  quantities,  is 
carried  by  the  rivers  to  the  cities  by  the  sea  ;  there 
it  is  sorted  according  to  the  mark  it  bears,  showing 
the  proprietor,  and  exported  to  foreign  countries. 

In  order  to  prevent  log-jams,  which  are  often  at- 
tended with  terrible  disasters,  men  are  stationed 
night  and  day  at  the  narrows  of  the  rivers.  The 
boys,  to  whom  all  excitement  is  welcome,  are  apt 
to  congregate  in  large  numbers  at  such  places, 
assisting  or  annoying  the  watchers,  riding  on 
the  logs,  or  teasing  the  girls  who  stand  up  on  the 
hillside,  admiring  the  daring  feats  of  the  lumbermen. 

It  was  on  such  a  spring  day,  when  the  air  was 
pungent  with  the  smell  of  sprouting  birch  and  pine, 
that  General  Viggo  and  his  trusty  army  had  be- 
taken themselves  to  the  cataract  to  share  in  the 
sport.  They  were  armed  with  their  bows,  as  usual, 
knowing  that  they  were  always  liable  to  be  sur- 
prised by  their  vigilant  enemy.  Nor  were  they  in 
this  instance  disappointed,  for  Halvor  Reitan,  with 


THE  BATTLE    OF   THE   RAFTS  1 7 

fifty  or  sixty  followers,  was  presently  visible  on  the 
east  side,  and  it  was  a  foregone  conclusion  that  if 
they  met  there  would  be  a  battle. 

The  river,  to  be  sure,  separated  them,  but  the 
logs  were  at  times  so  densely  packed  that  it  was 
possible  for  a  daring  lad  to  run  far  out  into  the 
river,  shoot  his  arrow  and  return  to  shore,  leaping 
from  log  to  log.  The  Reitan  party  was  the  first  to 
begin  this  sport,  and  an  arrow  hit  General  Viggo's 
hat  before  he  gave  orders  to  repel  the  assault. 

Cool  and  dignified  as  he  was,  he  could  not  con- 
sent to  skip  and  jump  on  the  slippery  logs,  par- 
ticularly as  he  had  no  experience  in  this  difficult 
exercise,  while  the  enemy  apparently  had  much. 
Paying  no  heed  to  the  jeers  of  the  lumbermen,  who 
supposed  he  was  afraid,  he  drew  his  troops  up  in 
line  and  addressed  them  as  follows : 

"  Soldiers :  You  have  on  many  previous  occa- 
sions given  me  proof  of  your  fidelity  to  duty  and 
your  brave  and  fearless  spirit.  I  know  that  I  can, 
now  as  always,  trust  you  to  shed  glory  upon  our 
arms,  and  to  maintain  our  noble  fame  and  honor- 
able traditions. 

"  The  enemy  is  before  us.  You  have  heard  and 
seen  his  challenge.  It  behooves  us  to  respond 
gallantly.  To  jump  and  skip  like  rabbits  is  unmili- 
tary  and  unsoldierlike.  I  propose  that  each  of  us 
shall  select  two  large  logs,  tie  them  together,  pro- 
cure,  if  possible,  a  boat-hook  or  an  oar,  and,  sitting 


1 8  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

astride  the  logs,  boldly  push  out  into  the  river.  If 
we  can  advance  in  a  tolerably  even  line,  which  I 
think  quite  possible,  we  can  send  so  deadly  a  charge 
into  the  ranks  of  our  adversaries  that  they  will  be 
compelled  to  flee.  Then  we  will  land  on  the  east 
side,  occupy  the  heights,  and  rout  our  foe. 

"  Now  let  each  man  do  his  duty.  Forward, 
march  !  " 

The  lumbermen,  whose  sympathies  were  with 
the  East-Siders,  found  this  performance  highly 
diverting,  but  Viggo  allowed  himself  in  nowise 
to  be  disturbed  by  their  laughter  or  jeers.  He 
marched  his  troops  down  to  the  river-front,  com- 
manded "  Rest  arms  !  "  and  repeated  once  more  his 
instructions  ;  then,  flinging  off  his  coat  and  waist- 
coat, he  seized  a  boat-hook  and  ran  some  hundred 
yards  along  the  bank  of  the  stream. 

The  river-bed  was  here  expanded  to  a  wide  basin, 
in  which  the  logs  floated  lazily  down  to  the  cata- 
ract below.  Trees  and  underbrush,  which  usually 
stood  on  dry  land,  were  half-submerged  in  the 
yellow  water,  and  the  current  gurgled  slowly  about 
their  trunks  with  muddy  foam  and  bubbles.  Now 
and  then  a  heap  of  lumber  would  get  wedged  in 
between  the  jutting  rocks  above  the  waterfall,  and 
then  the  current  slackened,  only  to  be  suddenly  ac- 
celerated, when  the  exertions  of  the  men  had  again 
removed  the  obstruction. 

It  was  an  exciting  spectacle  to  see  these  daring 


THE   BATTLE    OF   THE   RAFTS  19 

fellows  leap  from  log  to  log,  with  birch -bark- 
shoes  on  their  feet.  They  would  ride  on  a  heap  of 
lumber  down  to  the  very  edge  of  the  cataract,  dex- 
terously jump  off  at  the  critical  moment,  and  after 
half  a  dozen  narrow  escapes,  reach  the  shore,  only 
to  repeat  the  dangerous  experiment,  as  soon  as  the 
next  opportunity  offered  itself. 

It  was  the  example  of  these  hardy  and  agile  lum- 
bermen, trained  from  childhood  to  sport  with  dan- 
ger, which  inspired  Viggo  and  his  followers  with  a 
desire  to  show  their  mettle. 

"  Sergeant  Henning,"  said  the  General  to  his 
ever-faithful  shadow,  "  take  a  squad  of  five  men 
with  you,  and  cut  steering-poles  for  those  for  whom 
boat-hooks  cannot  be  procured.  You  will  be  the 
last  to  leave  shore.  Report  to  me  if  any  one  fails  to 
obey  orders." 

"  Shall  be  done,  General,"  Marcus  responded, 
with  a  deferential  military  salute. 

"  The  bows,  you  understand,  will  be  slung  by 
the  straps  across  the  backs  of  the  men,  while  they 
steer  and  push  with  their  poles." 

"  Certainly,  General,"  said  Marcus,  with  another 
salute. 

"  You  may  go." 

"  All  right,  General,"  answered  Marcus,  with  a 
third  salute. 

And  now  began  the  battle.  The  East-Siders, 
fearing  that  a  stratagem  was  intended,  when  they 


20  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

saw  the  enemy  moving  up  the  stream,  made  haste 
to  follow  their  example,  capturing  on  their  way 
every  stray  log  that  came  along.  They  sent  inef- 
fectual showers  of  arrows  into  the  water,  while 
the  brave  General  Viggo,  striding  two  big  logs 
which  he  had  tied  together  with  a  piece  of  rope, 
and  with  a  boat-hook  in  his  hand,  pushed  proudly 
at  the  head  of  his  army  into  the  middle  of  the  wide 
basin. 

Halvor  Reitan  was  clever  enough  to  see  what 
it  meant,  and  he  was  not  going  to  allow  the 
West-Siders  to  gain  the  heights  above  him,  and 
attack  him  in  the  rear.  He  meant  to  prevent  the 
enemy  from  landing,  or,  still  better,  he  would 
meet  him  half-way,  and  drive  him  back  to  his  own 
shore. 

The  latter,  though  not  the  wiser  course,  was  the 
plan  which  Halvor  Reitan  adopted.  To  have  a 
tussle  with  the  high-nosed  Viggo  in  the  middle  of 
the  basin,  to  dislodge  him  from  his  raft  —  that 
seemed  to  Halvor  a  delightful  project.  He  knew 
that  Viggo  was  a  good  swimmer,  so  he  feared  no 
dangerous  consequences ;  and  even  if  he  had,  it 
would  not  have  restrained  him.  He  was  so  much 
stronger  than  Viggo,  and  here  was  his  much-longed- 
for  opportunity. 

With  great  despatch  he  made  himself  a  raft  of 
two  logs,  and  seating  himself  astride  them,  with  his 
legs  in  the  water,  put  off  from  shore.     He  shouted 


THE   BATTLE    OF   THE   RAFTS  21 

to  his  men  to  follow  him,  and  they  needed  no  urg- 
ing. Viggo  was  now  near  the  middle  of  the  basin, 
with  twenty  or  thirty  picked  archers  close  behind 
him.  They  fired  volley  after  volley  of  arrows 
against  the  enemy,  and  twice  drove  him  back  to 
the  shore. 

But  Halvor  Reitan,  shielding  his  face  with  a 
piece  of  bark  which  he  had  picked  up,  pushed  for- 
ward in  spite  of  their  onslaught,  though  one  arrow 
knocked  off  his  red-peaked  cap,  and  another  scratched 
his  ear.  Now  he  was  but  a  dozen  feet  from  his  foe. 
He  cared  little  for  his  bow  now  ;  the  boat-hook  was 
a  far  more  effectual  v/eapon. 

Viggo  saw  at  a  glance  that  he  meant  to  pull  his 
raft  toward  him,  and,  relying  upon  his  greater 
strength,  fling  him  into  the  water.  His  first  plan 
would  therefore  be  to  fence  with  his  own  boat- 
hook,  so  as  to  keep  his  antagonist  at  a  distance. 

When  Halvor  made  the  first  lunge  at  the  nose  of 
his  raft,  he  foiled  the  attempt  with  his  own  weapon, 
and  managed  dexterously  to  give  the  hostile  raft  a 
downward  push,  which  increased  the  distance  be- 
tween them. 

"  Take  care.  General  ! "  said  a  respectful  voice 
close  to  Viggo's  ear.  "  There  is  a  small  log  jam 
down  below,  which  is  getting  bigger  every  moment. 
When  it  is  got  afloat,  it  will  be  dangerous  out 
here." 

"  What  are  you  doing  here,   Sergeant  ?  "  asked 


22  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

the  General,  severely.     "  Did  I  not  tell  you  to  be 
the  last  to  leave  the  shore?" 

"  You  did,  General,"  Marcus  replied,  meekly, 
"  and  I  obeyed.  But  I  have  pushed  to  the  front  so 
as  to  be  near  you." 

"  I  don't  need  you,  Sergeant,"  Viggo  responded, 
"  you  may  go  to  the  rear." 

The  booming  of  the  cataract  nearly  drowned  his 
voice  and  Marcus  pretended  not  to  hear  it.  A 
huge  lumber  mass  was  piling  itself  up  among  the 
rocks  jutting  out  of  the  rapids,  and  a  dozen  men 
hanging  like  flies  on  the  logs,  sprang  up  and  down 
with  axes  in  their  hands.  They  cut  one  log  here 
and  another  there  ;  shouted  commands ;  and  fell 
into  the  river  amid  the  derisive  jeers  of  the  specta- 
tors ;  they  scrambled  out  again  and,  dripping  wet, 
set  to  work  once  more  with  a  cheerful  heart,  to  the 
mighty  music  of  the  cataract,  whose  thundering 
rhythm  trembled  and  throbbed  in  the  air. 

The  boys  who  were  steering  their  rafts  against 
each  other  in  the  comparatively  placid  basin  were 
too  absorbed  in  their  mimic  battle  to  heed  what  was 
going  on  below.  Halvor  and  Viggo  were  fighting 
desperately  with  their  boat-hooks,  the  one  attacking 
and  the  other  defending  himself  with  great  dexter- 
ity. They  scarcely  perceived,  in  their  excitement, 
that  the  current  was  dragging  them  slowly  toward 
the  cataract;  nor  did  they  note  the  warning  cries  of 
the  men  and  women  on  the  banks. 


THE  BATTLE  OF   THE   RAFTS  23 

Viggo's  blood  was  hot,  his  temples  throbbed,  his 
eyes  flashed.  He  would  show  this  miserable  clown 
who  had  dared  to  insult  hnn,  that  the  trained  skill 
of  a  gentleman  is  worth  more  than  the  rude  strength 
of  a  bully.  With  beautiful  precision  he  foiled  every 
attack  ;  struck  Halvor's  boat-hook  up  and  down,  so 
that  the  water  splashed  about  him,  manoeuvring  at 
the  same  time  his  own  raft  w^th  admirable  adroit- 
ness. 

Cheer  upon  cheer  rent  the  air,  after  each  of  his 
successful  sallies,  and  his  comrades,  selecting  their 
antagonists  from  among  the  enemy,  now  pressed 
forward,  all  eager  to  bear  their  part  in  the  fray. 

Splash  !  splash  !  splash  !  one  East-Sider  was  dis- 
mounted, got  an  involuntary  bath,  but  scrambled  up 
on  his  raft  again.  The  next  time  it  was  a  West- 
Sider  who  got  a  ducking,  but  seemed  none  the 
worse  for  it.  There  was  a  yelling  and  a  cheering, 
now  from  one  side  and  now  from  the  other,  which 
made  everyone  forget  that  something  was  going  on 
at  that  moment  of  greater  importance  than  the 
mimic  warfare  of  boys. 

All  the  interest  of  the  contending  parties  was 
concentrated  on  the  duel  of  their  chieftains.  It 
seemed  now  really  that  Halvor  was  getting  the 
worst  of  it.  He  could  not  get  close  enough  to 
use  his  brawny  muscles  ;  and  in  precision  of  aim 
and  adroitness  of  movement  he  was  not  Viggo's 
match. 


24  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

Again  and  again  he  thrust  his  long-handled  boat- 
hook  angrily  against  the  bottom  (for  the  flooded 
parts  of  the  banks  were  very  shallow),  to  push  the 
raft  forward,  but  every  time  Viggo  managed  to  turn 
it  sideward,  and  Halvor  had  to  exert  all  his  presence 
of  mind  to  keep  his  seat.  Wild  with  rage  he  sprang 
up  on  his  slender  raft  and  made  a  vicious  lunge  at 
his  opponent,  who  warded  the  blow  with  such  force 
that  the  handle  of  the  boat-hook  broke,  and  Hal- 
vor lost  his  balance  and  fell  into  the  water. 

At  this  same  instant  a  tremendous  crash  was 
heard  from  below,  followed  by  a  long  rumble  as  of 
mighty  artillery.  A  scream  of  horror  went  up  from 
the  banks,  as  the  great  lumber  mass  rolled  down 
into  the  cataract,  making  a  sudden  suction  which  it 
seemed  impossible  that  the  unhappy  boys  could  re- 
sist. 

The  majority  of  both  sides,  seeing  their  danger, 
beat,  by  means  of  their  boat-hooks,  a  hasty  retreat, 
and  as  they  were  in  shallow  water  v^^ere  hauled 
ashore  by  the  lumbermen,  who  sprang  into  the  river 
to  save  them. 

When  the  clouds  of  spray  had  cleared  away,  only 
three  figures  were  visible.  Viggo,  still  astride  of  his 
raft,  was  fighting,  not  for  his  own  life,  but  for  that 
of  his  enemy,  Halvor,  who  was  struggling  helplessly 
in  the  white  rapids.  Close  behind  his  commander 
stood  little  Marcus  on  his  raft,  holding  on,  with 
one  hand  to  the  boat-hook  which  he  had  hewn,  with 


THE  BATTLE    OF   THE   RAFTS  2$ 

all  his  might,  into  Viggo's  raft,  and  with  the  other 
grasping  the  branch  of  a  half-submerged  tree. 

"  Save  yourself,  General  ! "  he  yelled,  wildly. 
"  Let  go  there.     I  can't  hold  on  much  longer." 

But  Vicjsfo  did  not  heed.  He  saw  nothing  but 
the  pale,  frightened  face  of  his  antagonist,  who 
might  lose  his  life.  With  a  desperate  effort  he 
flung;  his  boat-hook  toward  him  and  succeeded  this 
time  in  laying  hold  of  the  leather  girdle  about  his 
waist.  One  hundred  feet  below  yawned  the  foam- 
ing, weltering  abyss,  from  which  the  white  smoke 
ascended.  If  Marcus  lost  his  grip,  if  the  branch 
snapped  no  human  power  could  save  them  ;  they 
were  all  dead  men. 

By  this  time  the  people  on  the  shore  had  dis- 
covered that  three  lives  were  hanging  on  the  brink 
of  eternity.  Twenty  men  had  waded  waist-deep 
into  the  current  and  had  flung  a  stout  rope  to  the 
noble  little  fellow  who  was  risking  his  own  life  for 
his  friend. 

"  Keep  your  hold,  my  brave  lad  ! "  they  cried  ; 
"  hold  on  another  minute  !  " 

''  Grab  the  rope  !"  screamed  others. 

Marcus  clinched  his  teeth,  and  his  numb  arms 
trembled,  mist  gathered  in  his  eyes — his  heart  stood 
still.  But  with  a  clutch  that  seemed  superhuman 
he  held  on.  He  had  but  one  thought — Viggo,  his 
chief !  Viggo,  his  idol  !  Viggo,  his  general  !  He 
must  save  him  or  die  with  him.     One  end  of  the 


26  BO  YHO OD  IiV  NOR  WA  Y 

rope  was  hanging  on  the  branch  and  was  within 
easy  reach ;  but  he  did  not  venture  to  seize  it,  lest 
the  wrench  caused  by  his  motion  might  detach  his 
hold  on  Viggo's  raft. 

Viggo,  who  just  now  was  pulling  Halvor  out  of 
the  water,  saw  in  an  instant  that  he  had  by  adding 
his  weight  to  the  raft,  increased  the  chance  of  both 
being  carried  to  their  death.  With  quick  reso- 
lution he  plunged  the  beak  of  his  own  boat- 
hook  into  Marcus's  raft,  and  shouted  to  Halvor 
to  save  himself.  The  latter,  taking  in  the  situa- 
tion at  a  glance,  laid  hold  of  the  handle  of  the 
boat-hook  and  together  they  pulled  up  alongside 
of  Marcus  and  leaped  aboard  his  raft,  whereupon 
Viggo's  raft  drifted  downward  and  vanished  in  a 
flash  in  the  yellow  torrent. 

At  that  very  instant  Marcus's  strength  gave  out ; 
he  relaxed  his  grip  on  the  branch,  which  slid  out  of 
his  hand,  and  they  would  inevitably  have  darted 
over  the  brink  of  the  cataract  if  Viggo  had  not, 
with  great  adroitness,  snatched  the  rope  from  the 
branch  of  the  half-submerged  tree. 

A  wild  shout,  half  a  cheer,  half  a  cry  of  relief, 
went  up  from  the  banks,  as  the  raft  with  the  three 
lads  was  slowly  hauled  toward  the  shore  by  the 
lumbermen  who  had  thrown  the  rope. 

Halvor  Reitan  was  the  first  to  step  ashore.  But 
no  joyous  welcome  greeted  him  from  those  whose 
sympathies  had,  a  little  while  ago,  been  all  on  his 


THE  BATTLE    OF   THE   RAFTS  2^ 

side.  He  hung  around  uneasily  for  some  minutes, 
feeling  perhaps  that  he  ought  to  say  something  to 
Viggo  who  had  saved  his  life,  but  as  he  could  not 
think  of  anything  which  did  not  seem  foolish,  he 
skulked  away  unnoticed  toward  the  edge  of  the 
forest. 

But  when  Viggo  stepped  ashore,  carrying  the  un- 
conscious Marcus  in  his  arms,  how  the  crowd 
rushed  forward  to  gaze  at  him,  to  press  his  hands, 
to  call  dowm  God's  blessing  upon  him  !  He 
had  never  imagined  that  he  was  such  a  hero.  It 
was  Marcus,  not  he,  to  whom  their  ovation  was 
due.  But  poor  Marcus — it  was  well  for  him  that 
he  had  fainted  from  over-exertion  ;  for  otherwise 
he  would  have  fainted  from  embarrassment  at 
the  honors  which  would  have  been  showered  upon 
him. 

The  West-Siders,  marching  two  abreast,  with 
their  bows  slung  across  their  shoulders,  escorted 
their  general  home,  cheering  and  shouting  as  they 
went.  When  they  were  half-way  up  the  hillside, 
Marcus  opened  his  eyes,  and  finding  himself  so 
close  to  his  beloved  general,  blushed  crimson,  scar- 
let, and  purple,  and  all  the  other  shades  that  an  em- 
barrassed blush  is  capable  of  assuming. 

"  Please,  General,"  he  stammered,  "  don't  bother 
about  me." 

Viggo  had  thought  of  making  a  speech  exalting 
the  heroism  of  his  faithful  follower.     But  he  saw 


28  BO  YHO on  IN  NOR IV A  Y 

at  a  glance  that  his  praise  would  be  more  grateful  to 
Marcus,  if  he  received  it  in  private. 

When,  however,  the  boys  gave  him  a  parting 
cheer,  in  front  of  his  father's  mansion,  he  forgot  his 
resolution,  leaped  up  on  the  steps,  and  lifting  the 
blushing  Marcus  above  his  head,  called  out  : 

"  Three  cheers  for  the  bravest  boy  in  Norway  ! " 


BICEPS   GRIMLUND'S    CHRISTMAS  VA- 
CATION 

I. 

The  great  question  which  Albert  Grimlund  was 
debating  was  fraught  with  unpleasant  possibil- 
ities. He  could  not  go  home  for  the  Christmas 
vacation,  for  his  father  lived  in  Drontheim,  which 
is  so  far  away  from  Christiania  that  it  was  scarcely 
worth  while  making  the  journey  for  a  mere  two- 
weeks'  holiday.  Then,  on  the  other  hand,  he  had 
an  old  great-aunt  who  lived  but  a  few  miles  from 
the  city.  She  had,  from  conscientious  motives,  he 
feared,  sent  him  an  invitation  to  pass  Christmas 
with  her.  But  Albert  had  a  poor  opinion  of  Aunt 
Elsbeth.  He  thought  her  a  very  tedious  person. 
She  had  a  dozen  cats,  talked  of  nothing  but  ser- 
mons and  lessons,  and  asked  him  occasionally,  with 
pleasant  humor,  whether  he  got  many  whippings  at 
school.  She  failed  to  comprehend  that  a  boy  could 
not  amuse  himself  forever  by  looking  at  the  pict- 
ures in  the  old  family  Bible,  holding  yarn,  and  list- 
ening to  oft-repeated  stories,  which  he  knew  by 
heart,  concerning   the   doings  and  sayings   of   his 


30  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

grandfather.  Aunt  Elsbeth,  after  a  previous  ex- 
perience with  her  nephew,  had  come  to  regard  boys 
as  rather  a  reprehensible  kind  of  animal,  who  dif- 
fered in  many  of  their  ways  from  girls,  and  alto- 
gether to  the  boys'  disadvantage. 

Now,  the  prospect  of  being  "  caged "  for  two 
weeks  with  this  estimable  lady  was,  as  I  said,  not 
at  all  pleasant  to  Albert.  He  was  sixteen  years 
old,  loved  out-door  sports,  and  had  no  taste  for 
cats.  His  chief  pride  was  his  muscle,  and  no  boy 
ever  made  his  acquaintance  without  being  invited 
to  feel  the  size  and  hardness  of  his  biceps.  This 
was  a  standing  joke  in  the  Latin  school,  and  Albert 
was  generally  known  among  his  companions  as 
''  Biceps  "  Grimlund.  He  was  not  very  tall  for  his 
age,  but  broad-shouldered  and  deep-chested,  with 
something  in  his  glance,  his  gait,  and  his  manners 
which  showed  that  he  had  been  born  and  bred  near 
the  sea.  He  cultivated  a  weather-beaten  com- 
plexion, and  was  particularly  proud  when  the  skin 
"peeled  "on  his  nose,  which  it  usually  did  in  the 
summer-time,  during  his  visits  to  his  home  in  the 
extreme  north.  Like  most  blond  people,  when  sun- 
burnt, he  was  red,  not  brown  ;  and  this  became  a 
source  of  great  satisfaction  when  he  learned  that 
Lord  Nelson  had  the  same  peculiarity.  Albert's 
favorite  books  were  the  sea  romances  of  Captain 
Marryat,  whose  "  Peter  Simple  "  and  "  Midship- 
man Easy"  he  held  to  be  the  noblest  products  of 


BICEPS  GRIMLUND'S  CHRISTMAS  VACATION    3^ 

human  genius.  It  was  a  bitter  disappointment  to 
him  that  his  father  forbade  his  going  to  sea  and 
was  educating  him  to  be  a  "  landlubber,"  which  he 
had  been  taught  by  his  boy  associates  to  regard  as 
the  most  contemptible  thing  on  earth. 

Two  days  before  Christmas,  Biceps  Grimlund 
was  sitting  in  his  room,  looking  gloomily  out  of  the 
window.  He  wished  to  postpone  as  long  as  possi- 
ble his  departure  for  Aunt  Elsbeth's  country-place, 
for  he  foresaw  that  both  he  and  she  were  doomed 
to  a  surfeit  of  each  other's  company  during  the 
coming  fortnight.  At  last  he  heaved  a  deep  sigh 
and  languidly  began  to  pack  his  trunk.  He  had 
just  disposed  the  dear  Marryat  books  on  top  of  his 
starched  shirts,  when  he  heard  rapid  footsteps  on 
the  stairs,  and  the  next  moment  the  door  burst 
open,  and  his  classmate,  Ralph  Hoyer,  rushed 
breathlessly  into  the  room. 

"  Biceps,"  he  cried,  "  look  at  this !  Here  is  a 
letter  from  my  father,  and  he  tells  me  to  invite  one 
of  my  classmates  to  come  home  with  me  for  the 
vacation.  Will  you  come  ?  Oh,  we  shall  have 
grand  times,  I  tell  you !     No  end  of  fun  !  " 

Albert,  instead  of  answering,  jumped  up  and 
danced  a  jig  on  the  floor,  upsetting  two  chairs  and 
breaking  the  wash-pitcher. 

"Hurrah!"  he  cried,  "  Fm  your  man.  Shake 
hands  on  it,  Ralph  !  You  have  saved  me  from  two 
weeks  of  cats  and  yarn  and  moping  !     Give  us  your 


32  BO  YHOOD   IN  NOR  WA  V 

paw  !     I  never  was  so  glad  to  see  anybody  in  all 
my  life." 

And  to  prove  it,  he  seized  Ralph  by  the  shoul- 
ders, gave  him  a  vigorous  whirl  and  forced  him  to 
join  in  the  dance. 

"  Now,  stop  your  nonsense,"  Ralph  protested, 
laughing ;  "  if  you  have  so  much  strength  to  waste, 
wait  till  we  are  at  home  in  Solheim,  and  you'll 
have  a  chance  to  use  it  profitably.^' 

Albert  flung  himself  down  on  his  old  rep-covered 
sofa.  It  seemed  to  have  some  internal  disorder,  for 
its  springs  rattled  and  a  vague  musical  twang  indi- 
cated that  something  or  other  had  snapped.  It 
had  seen  much  maltreatment,  that  poor  old  piece 
of  furniture,  and  bore  visible  marks  of  it.  When, 
after  various  exhibitions  of  joy,  their  boisterous  de- 
light had  quieted  down,  both  boys  began  to  discuss 
their  plans  for  the  vacation. 

"  But  I  fear  my  groom  may  freeze,  down  there 
in  the  street,"  Ralph  ejaculated,  cutting  short  the 
discussion ;  *'  it  is  bitter  cold,  and  he  can't  leave  the 
horses.  Hurry  up,  now,  old  man,  and  I'll  help  you 
pack." 

It  did  not  take  them  long  to  complete  the  pack- 
ing. Albert  sent  a  telegram  to  his  father,  asking 
permission  to  accept  Ralph's  invitation  ;  but,  know- 
ing well  that  the  reply  would  be  favorable,  did  not 
think  it  necessary  to  wait  for  it.  With  the  assist- 
ance of  his  friend  he  now  wrapped  himself  in  two 


BICEPS  GRIMLUND'S  CHRISTMAS  VACATION    33 

overcoats,  pulled  a  pair  of  thick  woollen  stockings 
over  the  outside  of  his  boots  and  a  pair  of  fur-lined 
top-boots  outside  of  these,  girded  himself  with  three 
long  scarfs,  and  pulled  his  brown  otter-skin  cap 
down  over  his  ears.  He  was  nearly  as  broad  as  he 
was  long,  when  he  had  completed  these  operations, 
and  descended  into  the  street  where  the  big  double- 
sleigh  (made  in  the  shape  of  a  huge  white  swan) 
was  awaiting  them.  They  now  called  at  Ralph's 
lodgings,  whence  he  presently  emerged  in  a  similar 
Esquimau  costume,  wearing  a  wolf-skin  coat  which 
left  nothing  visible  except  the  tip  of  his  nose  and 
the  steam  of  his  breath.  Then  they  started  off 
merrily  with  jingling  bells,  and  waved  a  farewell 
toward  many  a  window,  wherein  were  friends  and 
acquaintances.  They  felt  in  so  jolly  a  mood,  that 
they  could  not  help  shouting  their  joy  in  the  face 
of  all  the  world,  and  crowing  over  all  poor  wretches 
who  were  left  to  spend  the  holidays  in  the  city. 

II. 

SOLHEIM  was  about  twenty  miles  from  the  city, 
and  it  was  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening  when 
the  boys  arrived  there.  The  moon  was  shining 
brightly,  and  the  Milky  Way,  with  its  myriad  stars, 
looked  like  a  luminous  mist  across  the  vault  of  the 
sky.  The  aurora  boreal  is  swept  down  from  the 
north  with  white  and  pink  radiations  which  flushed 


34  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

the  dark  blue  sky  for  an  instant,  and  vanished. 
Tlie  earth  was  white,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach 
— splendidly,  dazzlingly  white.  And  out  of  the 
white  radiance  rose  the  great  dark  pile  of  masonry 
called  Solheim,  with  its  tall  chimneys  and  dormer- 
windows  and  old-fashioned  gables.  Round  about 
stood  the  tall  leafless  maples  and  chestnut-trees, 
sparkling  with  frost  and  stretching  their  gaunt  arms 
against  the  heavens.  The  two  horses,  when  they 
swung  up  before  the  great  front-door,  were  so  white 
with  hoar-frost  that  they  looked  shaggy  like  goats, 
and  no  one  could  tell  what  was  their  original  color. 
Their  breath  was  blown  in  two  vapory  columns  from 
their  nostrils  and  drifted  about  their  heads  like 
steam  about  a  locomotive. 

The  sleigh-bells  had  announced  the  arrival  of  the 
guests,  and  a  great  shout  of  welcome  was  heard  from 
the  hall  of  the  house,  which  seemed  alive  with  grown- 
up people  and  children.  Ralph  jumped  out  of  the 
sleigh,  embraced  at  random  half  a  dozen  people,  one 
of  whom  was  his  mother,  kissed  right  and  left,  pro- 
testing laughingly  against  being  smothered  in  affec- 
tion, and  finally  managed  to  introduce  his  friend, 
who  for  the  moment  was  feeling  a  trifle  lonely. 

"  Here,  father,"  he  cried.  "  Biceps,  this  is  my 
father  ;  and,  father,  this  is  my  Biceps ■* 

*'  What  stuff  you  are  talking,  boy,"  his  father 
exclaimed.  "  How  can  this  young  fellow  be  your 
biceps " 


BICEPS  GRIMLUND'S  CHRISTMAS  VACATION    35 

*'  Well,  how  can  a  man  keep  his  senses  in  such 
confusion  ?  "  said  the  son  of  the  house.  "  This  is 
my  friend  and  classmate,  Albert  Grimlund,  alias 
Biceps  Grimlund,  and  the  strongest  man  in  the 
whole  school.  Just  feel  his  biceps,  mother,  and 
you'll  see." 

"-  No,  I  thank  you.  I'll  take  your  word  for  it," 
replied  Mrs.  Hoyer.  "  As  I  intend  to  treat  him 
as  a  friend  of  my  son  should  be  treated,  I  hope  he 
will  not  feel  inclined  to  give  me  any  proof  of  his 
muscularity." 

When,  with  the  aid  of  the  younger  children,  the 
travellers  had  divested  themselves  of  their  various 
wraps  and  overcoats,  they  were  ushered  into  the 
old-fashioned  sitting-room.  In  one  corner  roared 
an  enormous,  many-storied,  iron  stove.  It  had  a 
picture  in  relief,  on  one  side,  of  Diana  the  Huntress, 
with  her  nymphs  and  baying  hounds.  In  the  mid- 
dle of  the  room  stood  a  big  table,  and  in  the 
middle  of  the  table  a  big  lamp,  about  which  the 
entire  family  soon  gathered.  It  was  so  cosey  and 
homelike  that  Albert,  before  he  had  been  half  an 
hour  in  the  room,  felt  gratefully  the  atmosphere  of 
mutual  affection  which  pervaded  the  house.  It 
amused  him  particularly  to  watch  the  little  girls,  of 
whom  there  were  six,  and  to  observe  their  profound 
admiration  for  their  big  brother.  Every  now  and 
then  one  of  them,  sidling  up  to  him  while  he  sat 
talking,  would  cautiously  touch  his  ear  or  a  curl  of 


36  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

his  hair;  and  if  he  deigned  to  take  any  notice  of 
her,  offering  her,  perhaps,  a  perfunctory  kiss,  her 
pride  and  pleasure  were  charming  to  witness. 

Presently  the  signal  was  given  that  supper  was 
ready,  and  various  savory  odors,  which  escaped, 
whenever  a  door  was  opened,  served  to  arouse  the 
anticipations  of  the  boys  to  the  highest  pitch.  Now, 
if  I  did  not  have  so  much  else  to  tell  you,  I  should 
stop  here  and  describe  that  supper.  There  were 
twenty-two  people  who  sat  down  to  it ;  but  that 
was  nothing  unusual  at  Solheim,  for  it  was  a  hos- 
pitable house,  where  every  wayfarer  was  welcome, 
either  to  the  table  in  the  servants'  hall  or  to  the 
master's  table  in  the  dining-room. 

III. 

At  the  stroke  of  ten  all  the  family  arose,  and  each 
in  turn  kissed  the  father  and  mother  good-night ; 
whereupon  Mr.  Hoyertook  the  great  lamp  from  the 
table  and  mounted  the  stairs,  followed  by  his  pack 
of  noisy  boys  and  girls.  Albert  and  Ralph  found 
themselves,  with  four  smaller  Hoyers,  in  an  enor- 
mous low-ceiled  room  with  many  windows.  In 
three  corners  stood  huge  canopied  bedsteads,  with 
flowered -chintz  curtains  and  mountainous  eider- 
down coverings  which  swelled  up  toward  the  ceiling. 
In  the  middle  of  the  wall,  opposite  the  windows,  a 
big  iron  stove,  like  the  one  in  the  sitting-room  (only 


BICEPS  GRIMLUND'S  CHRISTMAS   VAC  ATI  OX    37 

that  it  was  adorned  with  a  bunch  of  flowers,  peaches, 
and  grapes,  and  not  with  Diana  and  her  nymphs), 
was  roaring  merrily,  and  sending  a  long  red  sheen 
from  its  draught-hole  across  the  floor. 

Around  the  big  warm  stove  the  boys  gathered 
(for  it  was  positively  Siberian  in  the  region  of  the 
windows),  and  while  undressing  played  various 
pranks  upon  each  other,  which  created  much  merri- 
ment. But  the  most  laughter  was  provoked  at  the 
expense  of  Finn  Hoyer,  a  boy  of  fourteen,  whose 
bare  back  his  brother  insisted  upon  exhibiting  to  his 
guest ;  for  it  was  decorated  with  a  fac-simile  of  the 
picture  on  the  stove,  showing  roses  and  luscious 
peaches  and  grapes  in  red  relief.  Three  years  be- 
fore, on  Christmas  Eve,  the  boys  had  stood  about 
the  red-hot  stove,  undressing  for  their  bath,  and 
Finn,  who  was  naked,  had,  in  the  general  scrim- 
mage to  get  first  into  the  bath-tub,  been  pushed 
against  the  glowing  iron,  the  ornamentation  of 
which  had  been  beautifully  burned  upon  his  back. 
He  had  to  be  wrapped  in  oil  and  cotton  after  that 
adventure,  and  he  recovered  in  due  time,  but  never 
quite  relished  the  distinction  he  had  acquired  by 
his  pictorial  skin. 

It  was  long  before  Albert  fell  asleep  ;  for  the  cold 
kept  up  a  continual  fusillade,  as  of  musketry,  during 
the  entire  night.  The  woodwork  of  the  walls 
snapped  and  cracked  with  loud  reports  ;  and  a  little 
after  midnight  a  servant  came  in  and  stuffed  the 


38  BO  YHO OD  IN  NOR IV A  V 

Stove  full  of  birch -wood,  until  it  roared  like  an 
angry  lion.  This  roar  finally  lulled  Albert  to  sleep, 
in  spite  of  the  startling  noises  about  him. 

The   next    morning   the   boys   were   aroused    at 
seven  o'clock  by  a  servant,  who  brought  a  tray  with 
the  most  fragrant  coffee  and  hot  rolls.     It  was  in 
honor  of  the  guest  that,  in  accordance  with  Norse 
custom,  this  early  meal   was  served  ;  and   all  the 
boys,  carrying  pillows   and   blankets,   gathered   on 
Albert's  and  Ralph's  bed  and  feasted  right  royally. 
So  it  seemed  to  them,  at  least ;  for  any  break  in  the 
ordinary  routine,  be  it  ever  so  slight,  is  an  event  to 
the  young.     Then  they  had  a  pillow-fight,  thawed 
at  the  stove  the  water  in  the  pitchers  (for  it  was 
frozen   hard),   and   arrayed  themselves  to  descend 
and  meet  the  family  at  the  nine  o'clock  breakfast. 
When  this  repast  was  at  an  end,  the  question  arose 
how  they  were  to  entertain  their  guest,  and  various 
plans  were  proposed.     But  to  all  Ralph's  proposi- 
tions  his  mother  interposed  the   objection  that  it 
was  too  cold. 

"  Mother  is  right,"  said  Mr.  Hoyer ;  "  it  is  so  cold 
that  *  the  chips  jump  on  the  hill-side.'  You'll  have 
to  be  content  with  indoor  sports  to-day." 

"  But,  father,  it  is  not  more  than  twenty  degrees 

below   zero,"  the  boy  demurred.     "I  am  sure  we 

can  stand  that,  if  we  keep  in  motion.     I  have  been 

out  at  thirty  without  losing  either  ears  or  nose." 

He  went  to  the  window  to  observe  the  thermom- 


BICEPS  GRIMLUND\S  CHRISTMAS  VACATION    39 

eter;  but  the  dim  daylight  scarcely  penetrated  the 
fantastic  frost-crystals,  which,  like  a  splendid  exotic 
flora,  covered  the  panes.  Only  at  the  upper  corner, 
where  the  ice  had  commenced  to  thaw,  a  few  timid 
sunbeams  were  peeping  in,  making  the  lamp  upon 
the  table  seem  pale  and  sickly.  Whenever  the  door 
to  the  hall  was  opened  a  white  cloud  of  vapor  rolled 
in ;  and  every  one  made  haste  to  shut  the  door,  in 
order  to  save  the  precious  heat.  The  boys,  being 
doomed  to  remain  indoors,  walked  about  restlessly, 
felt  each  other's  muscle,  punched  each  other,  and 
sometimes,  for  want  of  better  employm.ent,  teased 
the  little  girls.  Mr.  Hoyer,  seeing  how  miserable 
they  w^ere,  finally  took  pity  on  them,  and,  after 
having  thawed  out  a  window-pane  sufficiently  to 
see  the  thermometer  outside,  gave  his  consent  to  a 
little  expedition  on  skees  ^  down  to  the  river. 

And  now,  boys,  you  ought  to  have  seen  them  ! 
Now  there  was  life  in  them  !  You  would  scarcely 
have  dreamed  that  they  were  the  same  creatures 
who,  a  moment  ago,  looked  so  listless  and  misera- 
ble. What  rollicking  laughter  and  fun,  while  they 
bundled  one  another  in  scarfs,  cardigan-jackets,  fur- 
lined  top-boots,  and  overcoats ! 

"  You  had  better  take  your  guns  along,  boys," 
said  the  father,  as  they  stormed  out  through  the 
front  door ;  "  you  might  strike  a  couple  of  ptarmigan, 
or  a  mountain-cock,  over  on  the  west  side." 

*  Norwegian  snow-shoes. 


40  BO  YHO OD  IN  NOR  WA  Y 

"  I  am  going  to  take  your  rifle,  if  you'll  let  me," 
Ralph  exclaimed.  "  I  have  a  fancy  we  might  strike 
bigger  game  than  mountain-cock.  I  shouldn't  ob- 
ject to  a  wolf  or  two." 

*'  You  are  welcome  to  the  rifle,"  said  his  father ; 
"  but  I  doubt  whether  you'll  find  wolves  on  the  ice 
so  early  in  the  day." 

Mr.  Hoyer  took  the  rifle  from  its  case,  examined 
it -carefully,  and  handed  it  to  Ralph.  Albert,  who 
was  a  less  experienced  hunter  than  Ralph,  preferred 
a  fowling-piece  to  the  rifle ;  especially  as  he  had  no 
expectation  of  shooting  anything  but  ptarmigan. 
Powder-horns,  cartridges,  and  shot  were  provided  ; 
and  quite  proudly  the  two  friends  started  off  on 
their  skees,  gliding  over  the  hard  crust  of  the  snow, 
which,  as  the  sun  rose  higher,  was  oversown  with 
thousands  of  glittering  gems.  The  boys  looked  like 
Esquimaux,  with  their  heads  bundled  up  in  scarfs, 
and  nothing  visible  except  their  eyes  and  a  few 
hoary  locks  of  hair  which  the  frost  had  silvered. 

IV. 

*'  What  was  that  ?  "  cried  Albert,  startled  by  a 
sharp  report  which  reverberated  from  the  mountains. 
They  had  penetrated  the  forest  on  the  west  side,  and 
ranged  over  the  ice  for  an  hour,  in  a  vain  search  for 
wolves. 

"Hush,"  said  Ralph,  excitedly;  and  after  a  mo- 


BICEPS  GRIM  LUND'S  CHRISTMAS  VAC  ATI  OX    41 

merit  of  intent  listening  he  added,  "  I'll  be  drawn 
and  quartered  if  it  isn't  poachers  !  " 

"  How  do  you  know  ?" 

''  These  woods  belong  to  father,  and  no  one  else 
has  any  right  to  hunt  in  them.  He  doesn't  mind  if 
a  poor  man  kills  a  hare  or  two,  or  a  brace  of  ptarmi- 
gan ;  but  these  chaps  are  after  elk ;  and  if  the  old 
gentleman  gets  on  the  scent  of  elk-hunters,  he  has 
no  more  mercy  than  Beelzebub." 

*'  How  can  you  know  that  they  are  after  elk  ?  " 

"  No  man  is  likely  to  go  to  the  woods  for  small 
game  on  a  day  like  this.  They  think  the  cold  pro- 
tects them  from  pursuit  and  capture." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ?  " 

*'  I  am  going  to  play  a  trick  on  them.  You  know 
that  the  sheriff,  whose  duty  it  is  to  be  on  the  look- 
out for  elk-poachers,  would  scarcely  send  out  a  posse 
when  the  cold  is  so  intense.  Elk,  you  know,  are 
becoming  very  scarce,  and  the  law  protects  them. 
No  man  is  allowed  to  shoot  more  than  one  elk  a 
year,  and  that  one  on  his  own  property.  Now, 
you  and  I  will  play  deputy-sheriffs,  and  have  those 
poachers  securely  in  the  lock-up  before  night." 

"  But  suppose  they  fight  ?  " 

''  Then  we'll  fight  back." 

Ralph  was  so  aglow  with  joyous  excitement  at 
the  thought  of  this  adventure,  that  Albert  had  not 
the  heart  to  throw  cold  water  on  his  enthusiasm. 
Moreover,  he  was  afraid  of  being  thought  cowardly 


42  BOYHOOD   IN  NORWAY 

by  his  friend  if  he  offered  objections.  The  recol- 
lection of  Midshipman  Easy  and  his  daring  pranks 
flashed  through  his  brain,  and  he  felt  an  instant 
desire  to  rival  the  exploits  of  his  favorite  hero. 
If  only  the  enterprise  had  been  on  the  sea  he  would 
have  been  twice  as  happy,  for  the  land  always 
seemed  to  him  a  prosy  and  inconvenient  place  for 
the  exhibition  of  heroism. 

"  But,  Ralph,"  he  exclaimed,  now  more  than 
ready  to  bear  his  part  in  the  expedition,  "  1  have 
only  shot  in  my  gun.  You  can't  shoot  men  with 
bird-shot." 

"  Shoot  men  !  Are  you  crazy  ?  Why,  I  don't 
intend  to  shoot  anybody.  I  only  wish  to  capture 
them.  My  rifle  is  a  breech-loader  and  has  six  car- 
tridges. Besides,  it  has  twice  the  range  of  theirs 
(for  there  isn't  another  such  rifle  in  all  Odalen), 
and  by  firing  one  shot  over  their  heads  I  can  bring 
them  to  terms,  don't  you  see  ?  " 

Albert,  to  be  frank,  did  not  see  it  exactly ;  but  he 
thought  it  best  to  suppress  his  doubts.  He  scented 
danger  in  the  air,  and  his  blood  bounded  through 
his  veins. 

"  How  do  you  expect  to  track  them  ?  "  he  asked, 
breathlessly. 

"  Skee-tracks  in  the  snow  can  be  seen  by  a  bat, 
born  blind,"  answered  Ralph,  recklessly. 

They  were  now  climbing  up  the  wooded  slope  on 
the  western   side  of  the  river.     The  crust  of  the 


BICEPS  GRIM  LUND'S  CHRISTMAS  VACATION    43 

frozen  snow  was  strong  enough  to  bear  them  ;  and 
as  it  was  not  glazed,  but  covered  with  an  inch  of 
hoar-frost,  it  retained  the  imprint  of  their  feet  with 
distinctness.  They  were  obliged  to  carry  their 
skees,  on  account  both  of  the  steepness  of  the  slope 
and  the  density  of  the  underbrush.  Roads  and 
paths  were  invisible  under  the  white  pall  of  the 
snow,  and  only  the  facility  with  which  they  could 
retrace  their  steps  saved  them  from  the  fear  of  go- 
ing astray.  Through  the  vast  forest  a  deathlike 
silence  reigned ;  and  this  silence  was  not  made  up 
of  an  infinity  of  tiny  sounds,  like  the  silence  of  a 
summer  day  when  the  crickets  whirr  in  the  tree- 
tops  and  the  bees  drone  in  the  clover-blossoms. 
No  ;  this  silence  was  dead,  chilling,  terrible.  The 
huge  pine-trees  now  and  then  dropped  a  load  of 
snow  on  the  heads  of  the  bold  intruders,  and  it  fell 
with  a  thud,  followed  by  a  noiseless,  glittering  driz- 
zle. As  far  as  their  eyes  could  reach,  the  monoto- 
nous colonnade  of  brown  tree-trunks,  rising  out  of 
the  white  waste,  extended  in  all  directions.  It  re- 
minded them  of  the  enchanted  forest  in  "  Undine," 
through  which  a  man  might  ride  forever  without 
finding  the  end.  It  was  a  great  relief  when,  from 
time  to  time,  they  met  a  squirrel  out  foraging  for 
pine-cones  or  picking  up  a  scanty  living  among  the 
husks  of  last  year's  hazel-nuts.  He  was  lively  in 
spite  of  the  weather,  and  the  faint  noises  of  his 
small  activities  fell  gratefully  upon  ears  already  ap- 


44  BO  YHO OD  IN  NOR  WA  Y 

palled  by  the  awful  silence.  Occasionally  they  scared 
up  a  brace  of  grouse  that  seemed  half  benumbed, 
and  hopped  about  in  a  melancholy  manner  under 
the  pines,  or  a  magpie,  drawing  in  its  head  and  ruf- 
fling up  its  feathers  against  the  cold,  until  it  looked 
frowsy  and  disreputable. 

"  Biceps,"  whispered  Ralph,  who  had  suddenly 
discovered  something  interesting  in  the  snow,  "  do 
you  see  that  ?  " 

*'  Je-rusalem  !  "  ejaculated  Albert,  with  thought- 
less delight,  "  it  is  a  hoof-track  ! " 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  you  blockhead,"  warned  his 
friend,  too  excited  to  be  polite,  "  or  you'll  spoil  the 
whole  business ! " 

"  But  you  asked  me,"  protested  Albert,  in  a 
huff. 

"  But  I  didn't  shout,  did  I  ?  " 

Again  the  report  of  a  shot  tore  a  great  rent  in  the 
wintry  stillness  and  rang  out  with  sharp  reverbera- 
tions. 

"  We've  got  them,"  said  Ralph,  examining  the 
lock  of  his  rifle.     "  That  shot  settles  them." 

"  If  we  don't  look  out,  they  may  get  us  instead," 
grumbled  Albert,  who  was  still  offended. 

Ralph  stood  peering  into  the  underbrush,  his 
eyes  as  wild  as  those  of  an  Indian,  his  nostrils  di- 
lated, and  all  his  senses  intensely  awake.  His  com- 
panion, who  was  wholly  unskilled  in  woodcraft, 
could  see  no  cause  for  his  agitation,  and  feared  that 


BICEPS  GRIMLUXD'S  CHRISTMAS  VACATION    45 

he  was  yet  angry.     He  did  not  detect  the  evidences 
of  large  game  in  the  immediate  neighborhood.     He 
did   not  see,  by  the  bend  of  the  broken  twigs  and 
the  small  tufts  of  hair  on  the  brier-bush,  that  an  elk 
had  pushed  through   that  very  copse  within  a  few 
minutes ;  nor  did  he  sniff  the  gamy  odor  with  which 
the  large  beast  had  charged  the  air.     In  obedience 
to  his  friend's  gesture,  he  flung  himself  down  on 
hands  and  knees  and   cautiously   crept    after    him 
through  the  thicket.     He  now  saw  without  diffi- 
culty a  place  where  the  elk  had  broken  through  the 
snow  crust,  and  he  could  also  detect  a  certain  aim- 
less bewilderment  in  the  tracks,  owing,  no  doubt,  to 
the  shot  and  the  animal's  perception  of  danger  on 
two  sides.     Scarcely  had  he  crawled   twenty  feet 
when  he  was  startled  by  a  noise  of  breaking  branches, 
and  before  he  had  time  to  cock  his  gun,  he  saw  an 
enormous  bull-elk  tearing  through  the  underbrush, 
blowinsf  two  columns  of  steam  from    his   nostrils, 
and  steering  straight  toward  them.     At  the  same 
instant  Ralph's  rifle  blazed  away,  and  the  splendid 
beast,  rearing  on  its  hind   legs,  gave  a  wild  snort, 
plunged  forward  and  rolled  on  its  side  in  the  snow. 
Quick  as  a  flash  the  young  hunter  had  drawn  his 
knife,    and,    in    accordance   with    the    laws    of   the 
chase,  had  driven  it  into  the  breast  of  the  animal. 
But  the  glance  from  the  dying  eyes — that  glance,  of 
which  every  elk-hunter  can  tell   a   moving  tale — 
pierced  the  boy  to  the  very  heart !     It  was  such  a 


46  BOYHOOD   IN  NORWAY 

touching,  appealing,  imploring  glance,  so  soft   and 
gentle  and  unresentful. 

*'  Why  did  you  harm  me,"  it  seemed  to  say, 
"  who  never  harmed  any  living  thing — who  claimed 
only  the  right  to  live  my  frugal  life  in  the  forest, 
dio-crino-  up  the  frozen  mosses  under  the  snow,  which 
no  mortal  creature  except  myself  can  eat  ?  " 

The  sanguinary  instinct — the  fever  for  killing, 
which  every  boy  inherits  from  savage  ancestors — 
had  left  Ralph,  before  he  had  pulled  the  knife  from 
the  bleeding  wound.  A  miserable  feeling  of  guilt 
stole  over  him.  He  never  had  shot  an  elk  before; 
and  his  father,  who  was  anxious  to  preserve  the 
noble  beasts  from  destruction,  had  not  availed  him- 
self of  his  right  to  kill  one  for  many  years.  Ralph 
had,  indeed,  many  a  time  hunted  rabbits,  hares, 
mountain-cock,  and  capercailzie.  But  they  had 
never  destroyed  his  pleasure  by  arousing  pity  for 
their  deaths ;  and  he  had  always  regarded  himself 
as  being  proof  against  sentimental  emotions. 

"  Look  here.  Biceps,"  he  said,  flinging  the  knife 
into  the  snow,  "  I  wish  1  hadn't  killed  that  bull." 

"  I  thought  we  were  hunting  for  poachers,"  an- 
swered Albert,  dubiously;  "  and  now  we  have  been 
poaching  ourselves." 

"  By  Jiminy !  So  we  have ;  and  I  never  once 
thought  of  it,"  cried  the  valiant  hunter.  "  I  am 
afraid  we  are  off  my  father's  preserves  too.  It  is 
well  the  deputy-sheriffs  are  not  abroad,  or  we  might 


BICEPS  GRIMLUXD'S  CHRISTMAS  VAC  ATI  OX    4J 

find  ourselves  decorated  with  iron  bracelets  before 
night." 

"  But  what  did  you  do  it  for  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  can't  tell.  It's  in  the  blood,  I  fancy. 
The  moment  I  saw  the  track  and  caught  the  wild 
smell,  I  forgot  all  about  the  poachers,  and  started 
on  the  scent  like  a  hound." 

The  two  boys  stood  for  some  minutes  looking  at 
the  dead  animal,  not  with  savage  exultation,  but 
with  a  dim  regret.  The  blood  which  was  gushing 
from  the  wound  in  the  breast  froze  in  a  solid  lump 
the  very  moment  it  touched  the  snow,  although  the 
cold  had  greatly  moderated  since  the  morning. 

*'  I  suppose  we'll  have  to  skin  the  fellow,"  re- 
marked Ralph,  lugubriously  ;  "  it  won't  do  to  leave 
that  fine  carcass  for  the  wolves  to  celebrate  Christ- 
mas with." 

"  All  right,''  Albert  answered,  "  I  am  not  much  of 
a  hand  at  skinning,  but  I'll  do  the  best  I  can." 

They  fell  to  work  rather  reluctantly  at  the  un- 
wonted task,  but  had  not  proceeded  far  when  they 
perceived  that  they  had  a  full  day's  job  before 
them. 

"I've  no  talent  for  the  butcher's  trade,"  Ralph 
exclaimed  in  disgust,  dropping  his  knife  into  the 
snow.  "  There's  no  help  for  it,  Biceps,  we'll  have 
to  bury  the  carcass,  pile  some  logs  on  the  top  of  it, 
and  send  a  horse  to  drag  it  home  to-morrow.  If  it 
were  not  Christmas  Eve  to-night  we  might  take  a 


48  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

couple  of  men  along  and  shoot  a  dozen  wolves  or 
more.  For  there  is  sure  to  be  pandemonium  here 
before  long,  and  a  concert  in  G-flat  that'll  curdle 
the  marrow  of  your  bones  with  horror." 

"  Thanks,"  replied  the  admirer  of  Midshipman 
Easy,  striking  a  reckless  naval  attitude.  "  The  mar- 
row of  m.y  bones  is  not  so  easily  curdled.  I've 
been  on  a  whaling  voyage,  which  is  more  than  you 
have." 

Ralph  was  about  to  vindicate  his  dignity  by  re- 
ferring to  his  own  valiant  exploits,  when  suddenly 
his  keen  eyes  detected  a  slight  motion  in  the  under- 
brush on  the  slope  below. 

*'  Biceps,"  he  said,  with  forced  composure,  "  those 
poachers  are  tracking  us." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Albert,  in  vague 
alarm. 

"  Do  you  see  the  top  of  that  young  birch  wav- 
mg? 

"  Well,  what  of  that !  " 

*'  Wait  and  see.  It's  no  good  trying  to  escape. 
They  can  easily  overtake  us.  The  snow  is  the  worst 
tell-tale  under  the  sun." 

"  But  why  should  we  wish  to  escape  ?  I  thought 
we  were  going  to  catch  them." 

"  So  we  were ;  but  that  was  before  we  turned 
poachers  ourselves.  Now  those  fellows  will  turn 
the  tables  on  us — take  us  to  the  sheriff  and  collect 
half  the  fine,  which  is  fifty  dollars,  as  informers." 


BICEPS  GRJMLUND'S  CHRISTMAS  VACATION    49 

'' Je-rusalem  !  "  cried  Biceps,  "isn't  it  a  beautiful 
scrape  we've  gotten  into  ?  " 

"  Rather,"  responded  his  friend,  coolly. 

**But  why  meekly  allow  ourselves  to  be  cap- 
tured ?     Why  not  defend  ourselves  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Biceps,  you  don't  know  what  you  are 
talking  about.  Those  fellows  don't  mind  putting  a 
bullet  into  you,  if  you  run.  Now,  I'd  rather  pay 
fifty  dollars  any  day,  than  shoot  a  man  even  in 
self-defence." 

"But  they  have  killed  elk  too.  We  heard  them 
shoot  twice.  Suppose  we  play  the  same  game  on 
them  that  they  intend  to  play  on  us.  We  can  play 
informers  too,  then  we'll  at  least  be  quits." 

"  Biceps,  you  are  a  brick  !  That's  a  capital  idea  ! 
Then  let  us  start  for  the  sheriff's ;  and  if  we  get 
there  first,  we'll  inform  both  on  ourselves  and  on 
them.     That'll  cancel  the  fine.     Quick,  now!" 

No  persuasions  were  needed  to  make  Albert  be- 
stir himself.  He  leaped  toward  his  skees,  and  fol- 
lowing his  friend,  who  was  a  few  rods  ahead  of  him, 
started  down  the  slope  in  a  zigzag  line,  cautiously 
steering  his  way  among  the  tree  trunks.  The  boys 
had  taken  their  departure  none  too  soon  ;  for  they 
were  scarcely  five  hundred  yards  down  the  declivity, 
when  they  heard  behind  them  loud  exclamations 
and  oaths.  Evidently  the  poachers  had  stopped  to 
roll  some  logs  (which  were  lying  close  by)  over  the 
carcass,  probably  meaning  to  appropriate  it ;  and 


50  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

this  gave  the  boys  an  advantage,  of  which  they  were 
in  great  need.  After  a  few  moments  they  espied  an 
open  clearing  which  sloped  steeply  down  toward  the 
river.  Toward  this  Ralph  had  been  directing  his 
course;  for  although  it  was  a  venturesome  under- 
taking to  slide  down  so  steep  and  rugged  a  hill,  he 
was  determined  rather  to  break  his  neck  than  lower 
his  pride,  and  become  the  laughing-stock  of  the 

parish. 

One  more  tack  through  alder  copse  and  juniper 
jungle— hard  indeed,  and  terribly  vexatious— and 
he  saw  with  delight  the  great  open  slope,  covered 
with  an  unbroken  surface  of  glittering  snow.  The 
sun  (which  at  midwinter  is  but  a  few  hours  above 
the  horizon)  had  set;  and  the  stars  were  flashing 
forth  with  dazzling  brilliancy.  Ralph  stopped,  as 
he  reached  the  clearing,  to  give  Biceps  an  oppor- 
tunity to  overtake  him  ;  for  Biceps,  like  all  marine 
animals,  moved  with  less  dexterity  on  the  dry  land. 

"  Ralph,"  he  whispered  breathlessly,  as  he  pushed 
himself  up  to  his  companion  with  a  vigorous  thrust 
of  his  skee-staff,  "  there  are  two  awful  chaps  close 
behind  us.     I  distinctly  heard  them  speak." 

"  Fiddlesticks,"  said  Ralph ;  *'  now  let  us  see 
what  you  are  made  of !  Don't  take  my  track,  or 
you  may  impale  me  like  a  roast  pig  on  a  spit. 
Now,  ready !— one,  two,  three  !  " 

«  Hold  on  there,  or  I  shoot,"  yelled  a  hoarse  voice 
from  out  of  the  underbrush;  but  it  was  too  late;  for 


BICEPS  GRIMLUND'S  CHRISTMAS  VACATION    $1 

at  the  same  instant  the  two  boys  slid  out  over  the 
steep  slope,  and,  wrapped  in  a  whirl  of  loose  snow, 
were  scudding  at  a  dizzying  speed  down  the  precip- 
itous hill-side.  Thump,  thump,  thump,  they  went, 
where  hidden  wood-piles  or  fences  obstructed  their 
path,  and  out  they  shot  into  space,  but  each  time 
came  down  firmly  on  their  feet,  and  dashed  ahead 
with  undiminished  ardor.  Their  calves  ached,  the 
cold  air  whistled  in  their  ears,  and  their  eyelids 
became  stiff  and  their  sight  half  obscured  with  the 
hoar-frost  that  fringed  their  lashes.  But  onward 
they  sped,  keeping  their  balance  with  wonderful 
skill,  until  they  reached  the  gentler  slope  which 
formed  the  banks  of  the  great  river.  Then  for  the 
first  time  Ralph  had  an  opportunity  to  look  behind 
him,  and  he  saw  two  moving  whirls  of  snow  dart- 
ing downward,  not  far  from  his  own  track.  His 
heart  beat  in  his  throat ;  for  those  fellows  had  both 
endurance  and  skill,  and  he  feared  that  he  was  no 
match  for  them.  But  suddenly — he  could  have 
yelled  with  delight — the  foremost  figure  leaped  into 
the  air,  turned  a  tremendous  somersault,  and,  com- 
ing down  on  his  head,  broke  through  the  crust  of 
the  snow  and  vanished,  while  his  skees  started  on 
an  independent  journey  down  the  hill-side.  He  had 
struck  an  exposed  fence-rail,  which,  abruptly  check- 
ing his  speed,  had  sent  him  flying  like  a  rocket. 

The  other  poacher  had  barely  time  to  change  his 
course,  so  as  to  avoid  the  snag ;  but  he  was  unable 


52  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

to  stop  and  render  assistance  to  his  fallen  comrade. 
The  boys,  just  as  they  were  shooting  out  upon  the 
ice,  saw  by    his    motions    that    he  was    hesitating 
whether  or  not  he  should  give  up  the  chase.     He 
used  his  staff  as  a  brake  for  a  few  moments,  so  as  to 
retard  his  speed ;  but  discovering,  perhaps,  by  the 
brightening  starlight,  that  his  adversaries  were  not 
full-grown    men,  he  took  courage,  started  forward 
again,  and  tried  to  make  up  for  the  time  he  had  lost. 
If  he  could  but  reach  the  sheriff's  house  before  the 
boys  did,  he  could  have  them  arrested  and  collect  the 
informer's  fee,  instead  of  being  himself  arrested  and 
fined  as  a  poacher.     It  was  a  prize  worth  racing  for ! 
And,  moreover,  there  were  two  elks,  worth  twenty- 
five  dollars  apiece,  buried  in  the  snow  under  logs. 
These  also  would  belong  to  the  victor !    The  poacher 
dashed   ahead,  straining  every  nerve,  and   reached 
safely  the  foot  of   the  steep  declivity.     The   boys 
were  now  but  a  few  hundred  yards  ahead  of  him. 
"  Hold  on  there,"  he  yelled  again,  "  or  I  shoot !  " 
He   was   not  within   range,   but   he   thought   he 
could  frighten  the  youngsters  into  abandoning  the 
race.     The  sheriff's  house  was  but  a  short  distance 
up  the  river.     Its  tall,  black  chimneys  could  be  seen 
looming  up  against  the  starlit  sky.     There  was  no 
slope  now  to  accelerate  their  speed.     They  had  to 
peg  away  for  dear  life,  pushing  themselves  forward 
with  their  skee-staves,  laboring  like  plough-horses, 
panting,    snorting,    perspiring.     Ralph   turned    his 


BICEPS  GRIM  LUND'S  CHRISTMAS  VACATION    53 

head  once  more.  The  poacher  was  gaining  upon 
them  ;  there  could  be  do  doubt  of  it.  He  was 
within  the  range  of  Ralph's  rifle  ;  and  a  sturdy  fel- 
low he  was,  who  seemed  good  for  a  couple  of  miles 
yet.  Should  Ralph  send  a  bullet  over  his  head  to 
frighten  him  ?  No  ;  that  might  give  the  poacher 
an  excuse  for  sending  back  a  bullet  with  a  less 
innocent  purpose.  Poor  Biceps,  he  was  panting 
and  puffing  in  his  heavy  wraps  like  a  steamboat ! 
He  did  not  once  open  his  mouth  to  speak;  but, 
exerting  his  vaunted  muscle  to  the  utmost,  kept 
abreast  of  his  friend,  and  sometimes  pushed  a  pace 
or  two  ahead  of  him.  But  it  cost  him  a  mighty  ef- 
fort !  And  yet  the  poacher  was  gaining  upon  him  ! 
They  could  see  the  long  broadside  of  windows  in 
the  sheriff's  mansion,  ablaze  with  Christmas  candles. 
They  came  nearer  and  nearer  !  The  church-bells 
up  on  the  bend  were  ringing  in  the  festival.  Five 
minutes  more  and  they  would  be  at  their  goal. 
Five  minutes  more!  Surely  they  had  strength 
enough  left  for  that  small  space  of  time.  So  had  the 
poacher,  probably  !  The  question  was,  which  had 
the  most.  Then,  with  a  short,  sharp  resonance,  fol- 
lowed by  a  long  reverberation,  a  shot  rang  out  and  a 
bullet  whizzed  past  Ralph's  ear.  It  was  the  poacher 
who  had  broken  the  peace.  Ralph,  his  blood  boil- 
ing with  wrath,  came  to  a  sudden  stop,  flung  his 
rifle  to  his  cheek  and  cried,  "  Drop  that  gun  !  " 
The  poacher,  bearing  down  with  all  his  might  on 


54  BOYHOOD  IN  NOR WA  Y 

the  skee-staff,  checked  his  speed.  In  the  mean- 
while Albert  hurried  on,  seeing  that  the  issue  of 
the  race  depended  upon  him. 

"  Don't  force  me  to  hurt  ye ! "  shouted  the 
poacher,  threateningly,  to  Ralph,  taking  aim  once 
more. 

"  You  can't,"  Ralph  shouted  back.  "  You  haven't 
another  shot." 

At  that  instant  sounds  of  sleigh-bells  and  voices 
were  heard,  and  half  a  dozen  people,  startled  by  the 
shot,  were  seen  rushing  out  from  the  sheriff's  man- 
sion. Among  them  was  Mr.  Bjornerud  himself, 
with  one  of  his  deputies. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  law,  I  command  you  to 
cease,"  he  cried,  when  he  saw  down  the  two  figures 
in  menacing  attitudes.  But  before  he  could  say 
another  word,  some  one  fell  prostrate  in  the  road 
before  him,  gasping : 

"  We  have  shot  an  elk ;  so  has  that  man  down  on 
the  ice.     We  give  ourselves  up." 

Mr.  Bjornerud,  making  no  answer,  leaped  over 
the  prostrate  figure,  and,  followed  by  the  deputy, 
dashed  down  upon  the  ice. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  law  ! "  he  shouted  again, 
and  both  rifles  were  reluctantly  lowered. 

"  I  have  shot  an  elk,"  cried  Ralph,  eagerly,  "  and 
this  man  is  a  poacher,  we  heard  him  shoot." 

"  I  have  killed  an  elk,"  screamed  the  poacher,  in 
the  same  moment,  '^  and  so  has  this  fellow." 


BICEPS  GRIM  LUND'S  CHRISTMAS  VACATION    55 

The  sheriff  was  too  astonished  to  speak.  Never 
before,  in  his  experience,  had  poachers  raced  for 
dear  life  to  give  themselves  into  custody.  He 
feared  that  they  were  making  sport  of  him ;  in  that 
case,  however,  he  resolved  to  make  them  suffer  for 
their  audacity. 

"You  are  my  prisoners,"  he  said,  after  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation.  "  Take  them  to  the  lock-up,  Ol- 
sen,  and  handcuff  them  securely,"  he  added,  turn- 
ing to  his  deputy. 

There  were  now  a  dozen  men — most  of  them 
guests  and  attendants  of  the  sheriff's  household — 
standing  in  a  ring  about  Ralph  and  the  poacher. 
Albert,  too,  had  scrambled  to  his  feet  and  had 
joined  his  comrade. 

"  Will  you  permit  me,  Mr.  Sheriff,"  said  Ralph, 
making  the  officer  his  politest  bow,  "  to  send  a  mes- 
sage to  my  father,  who  is  probably  anxious  about 
us?" 

*'And  who  is  your  father,  young  man?"  asked 
the  sheriff,  not  unkindly;  "I  should  think  you 
were  doing  him  an  ill-turn  in  taking  to  poaching 
at  your  early  age." 

"  My  father  is  Mr.  Hoyer,  of  Solheim,"  said  the 
boy,  not  without  some  pride  in  the  announcement. 

"  What — you  rascal,  you  !  Are  you  trying  to 
play  pranks  on  an  old  man?  "cried  the  officer  of 
the  law,  grasping  Ralph  cordially  by  the  hand. 
"  You've  grown  to  be  quite  a  man,  since  I  saw  you 


56  BOYHOOD  jr\r  NORWAY 

last.  Pardon  me  for  not  recognizing  the  son  of  an 
old  neighbor." 

"Allow  me  to  introduce  to  you  my  friend,  Mr. 
Biceps — I  mean,  Mr.  Albert  Grimlund." 

"  Happy  to  make  your  acquaintance,  Mr.  Biceps 
Albert ;  and  now  you  must  both  come  and  eat  the 
Christmas  porridge  with  us.  I'll  send  a  messenger 
to  Mr.  Hoyer  without  delay." 

^  The  sheriff,  in  a  jolly  mood,  and  happy  to  have 
added  to  the  number  of  his  Christmas  guests,  took 
each  of  the  two  young  men  by  the  arm,  as  if  he 
were  going  to  arrest  them,  and  conducted  them 
through  the  spacious  front  hall  into  a  large  cosey 
room,  where,  having  divested  themselves  of  their 
wraps,  they  told  the  story  of  their  adventure. 

*'  But,  my  dear  sir,"  Mr.  Bjornerud  exclaimed, 
**  I  don't  see  how  you  managed  to  go  beyond  your 
father's  preserves.  You  know  he  bought  of  me  the 
whole  forest  tract,  adjoining  his  own  on  the  south, 
about  three  months  ago.  So  you  were  perfectly 
within  your  rights  ;  for  your  father  hasn't  killed  an 
elk  on  his  land  for  three  years." 

"  If  that  is  the  case,  Mr.  Sheriff,"  said  Ralph,  "  I 
must  beg  of  you  to  release  the  poor  fellow  who 
chased  us.  I  don't  wish  any  informer's  fee,  nor 
have  I  any  desire  to  get  him  into  trouble." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  can't  accommodate  you," 
Bjornerud  replied.  "This  man  is  a  notorious 
poacher   and   trespasser,  whom  my  deputies  have 


BICEPS  GRIM  LUND'S  CHRISTMAS  VACATION     5/ 

long  been  tracking  in  vain.  Now  that  I  have  him, 
I  shall  keep  him.  There's  no  elk  safe  in  Odalen 
so  long  as  that  rascal  is  at  large." 

"That  may  be;  but  I  shall  then  turn  my  in- 
former's fee  over  to  him,  which  will  reduce  his  fine 
from  fifty  dollars  to  twenty-five  dollars." 

"  To  encourage  him  to  continue  poaching  ?  " 
"Well,  I  confess  I  have  a  little  more  sympathy 
with  poachers,  since  we  came  so  near  being  poachers 
ourselves.     It  was  only  an  accident  that  saved  us  !  " 


THE   NIXY'S  STRAIN 

Little  Nils  had  an  idea  that  he  wanted  to  be 
something  great  in  the  world,  but  he  did  not  quite 
know  how  to  set  about  it.  He  had  always  been 
told  that,  having  been  born  on  a  Sunday,  he  was  a 
luck-child,  and  that  good  fortune  would  attend  him 
on  that  account  in  whatever  he  undertook. 

He  had  never,  so  far,  noticed  anything  peculiar 
about  himself,  though,  to  be  sure,  his  small  enter- 
prises did  not  usually  come  to  grief,  his  snares  were 
seldom  empty,  and  his  tiny  stamping-mill,  which  he 
and  his  friend  Thorstein  had  worked  at  so  faith- 
fully, was  now  making  a  merry  noise  over  in  the 
brook  in  the  Westmo  Glen,  so  that  you  could  hear 
it  a  hundred  yards  away. 

The  reason  of  this,  his  mother  told  him,  accord- 
ing to  the  superstition  of  her  people,  was  that  the 
Nixy  and  the  Hulder  *  and  the  gnomes  favored 
him  because  he  was  a  Sunday  child.  What  was 
more,  she  assured  him,  that  he  would  see  them  some 
day,  and  then,  if  he  conducted  himself  cleverly,  so 

*  The  genius  of  cattle,  represented  as  a  beautiful  maiden  disfig- 
ured by  a  heifer's  tail,  which  she  is  always  trying  to  hide,  though 
often  unsuccessfully. 


THE   NJXY'S  STRAIN  59 

as  to  win  their  favor,  he  would,  by  their  aid,  rise 
high  in  the  world,  and  make  his  fortune. 

Now  this  was  exactly  what  Nils  wanted,  and 
therefore  he  was  not  a  little  anxious  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  mysterious  creatures  who  had  so 
whimsical  a  reason  for  taking  an  interest  in  him. 
Many  and  many  a  time  he  sat  at  the  waterfall  where 
the  Nixy  was  said  to  play  the  harp  every  midsum- 
mer night,  but  although  he  sometimes  imagined 
that  he  heard  a  vague  melody  trembling  through 
the  rush  and  roar  of  the  water,  and  saw  glimpses 
of  white  limbs  flashing  through  the  current,  yet 
never  did  he  get  a  good  look  at  the  Nixy. 

Though  he  roamed  through  the  woods  early  and 
late,  setting  snares  for  birds  and  rabbits,  and  was 
ever  on  the  alert  for  a  sight  of  the  Hulder's  golden 
hair  and  scarlet  bodice,  the  tricksy  sprite  persisted 
in  eluding  him. 

He  thought  sometimes  that  he  heard  a  faint,  girl- 
ish giggle,  full  of  teasing  provocation  and  suppressed 
glee,  among  the  underbrush,  and  once  he  imagined 
that  he  saw  a  gleam  of  scarlet  and  gold  vanish  in  a 
dense  alder  copse. 

But  very  little  good  did  that  do  him,  when  he 
could  not  fix  the  vision,  talk  with  it  face  to  face, 
and  extort  the  fulfilment  of  the  three  regulation 
wishes. 

*'  I  am  probably  not  good  enough,"  thought  Nils. 
*'  I  know  I  am  a  selfish  fellow,  and  cruel,  too,  some- 


6o  BOYHOOD  IN  AW R WAY 

times,  to  birds  and  beasts.  I  suppose  she  won't 
have  anything  to  do  with  me,  as  long  as  she  isn't 
satisfied  with  my  behavior." 

Then  he  tried  hard  to  be  kind  and  considerate  ; 
smiled  at  his  little  sister  when  she  pulled  his  hair, 
patted  Sultan,  the  dog,  instead  of  kicking  him, 
when  he  was  in  his  way,  and  never  complained  or 
sulked  when  he  was  sent  on  errands  late  at  night  or 
in  bad  weather. 

But,  strange  to  say,  though  the  Nixy's  mysteri- 
ous melody  still  sounded  vaguely  through  the  wa- 
ter's roar,  and  the  Hulder  seemed  to  titter  behind 
the  tree-trunks  and  vanish  in  the  underbrush,  a 
real,  unmistakable  view  was  never  vouchsafed  to 
Nils,  and  the  three  wishes  which  were  to  make  his 
fortune  he  had  no  chance  of  propounding. 

He  had  fully  made  up  his  mind  what  his  wishes 
were  to  be,  for  he  was  determined  not  to  be  taken 
by  surprise.  He  knew  well  the  fate  of  those  fool- 
ish persons  in  the  fairy  tales  who  offend  their  be- 
nevolent protectors  by  bouncing  against  them  head 
foremost,  as  it  were,  with  a  greedy  cry  for  wealth. 

Nils  was  not  going  to  be  caught  that  way.  He 
would  ask  first  for  wisdom — that  was  what  all  right- 
minded  heroes  did — then  for  good  repute  among 
men,  and  lastly — and  here  was  the  rub — lastly  he 
was  inclined  to  ask  for  a  five-bladed  knife,  like  the 
one  the  parson's  Thorwald  had  got  for  a  Christmas 
present. 


THE   NIXY'S   STRAIN  6 1 

But  he  had  considerable  misgiving  about  the  ex- 
pediency of  this  last  wish.  If  he  had  a  fair  renown 
and  wisdom,  might  he  not  be  able  to  get  along  with- 
out a  five-bladed  pocket-knife  ?  But  no  ;  there 
was  no  help  for  it.  Without  that  five-bladed 
pocket-knife  neither  wisdom  nor  fame  would  sat- 
isfy him.  It  would  be  the  drop  of  gall  in  his  cup 
of  joy. 

After  many  days'  pondering,  it  occurred  to  him, 
as  a  way  out  of  the  difficulty,  that  it  would,  per- 
haps, not  offend  the  Hulder  if  he  asked,  not  for 
wealth,  but  for  a  moderate  prosperity.  If  he  were 
blessed  with  a  moderate  prosperity,  he  could,  of 
course,  buy  a  five-bladed  pocket-knife  with  cork- 
screw and  all  other  appurtenances,  and  still  have 
something  left  over. 

He  had  a  dreadful  struggle  with  this  question, 
for  he  was  well  aware  that  the  proper  things  to 
wish  were  long  life  and  happiness  for  his  father  and 
mother,  or  something  in  that  line.  But,  though  he 
wished  his  father  and  mother  well,  he  could  not 
make  up  his  mind  to  forego  his  own  precious 
chances  on  their  account.  Moreover,  he  consoled 
himself  with  the  reflection  that  if  he  attained  the 
goal  of  his  own  desires  he  could  easily  bestow  upon 
them,  of  his  bounty,  a  reasonable  prospect  of  long 
life  and  happiness. 

You  see  Nils  was  by  no  means  so  good  yet  as  he 
ought  to  be.     He  was  clever  enough  to  perceive 


62  BO  YH 00 D  IN  NOR  WA  V 

that  he  had  small  chance  of  seeing  the  Hulder,  as 
long  as  his  heart  was  full  of  selfishness  and  envy 
and  greed. 

For,  strive  as  he  might,  he  could  not  help  feel- 
ing envious  of  the  parson's  Thorwald,  with  his 
elaborate  combination  pocket-knife  and  his  silver 
watch-chain,  which  he  unfeelingly  flaunted  in  the 
face  of  an  admiring  community.  It  was  small  con- 
solation for  Nils  to  know  that  there  was  no  watch 
but  only  a  key  attached  to  it ;  for  a  silver  watch- 
chain,  even  without  a  watch,  was  a  sufficiently 
splendid  possession  to  justify  a  boy  in  lording  it 
over  his  less  fortunate  comrades. 

Nils's  father,  who  was  a  poor  charcoal-burner, 
could  never  afford  to  make  his  son  such  a  present, 
even  if  he  worked  until  he  was  as  black  as  a  chim- 
ney-sweep. For  what  little  money  he  earned  was 
needed  at  once  for  food  and  clothes  for  the  family ; 
and  there  were  times  when  they  were  obliged  to 
mix  ground  birch-bark  with  their  flour  in  order  to 
make  it  last  longer. 

It  was  easy  enough  for  a  rich  man's  son  to  be 
good,  Nils  thought.  It  was  small  credit  to  him  if 
he  was  not  envious,  having  never  known  want  and 
never  gone  to  bed  on  birch-bark  porridge.  But  for 
a  poor  boy  not  to  covet  all  the  nice  things  which 
would  make  life  so  pleasant,  if  he  had  them,  seemed 
next  to  impossible. 

Still  Nils  kept  on  making  good  resolutions  and 


-,    ■>'        y  ^  ■>■,'-,     ■> 


THE   NIXY'S   STRAIN  63 

breaking  them,  and  then  piecing  them  together  again 
and  breaking  them  anew. 

If  it  had  not  been  for  his  desire  to  see  the  Hulder 
and  the  Nixy,  and  making  them  promise  the  ful- 
fihnent  of  the  three  wishes,  he  would  have  given  up 
the  struggle,  and  resigned  himself  to  being  a  bad 
boy  because  he  was  born  so.  But  those  teasing 
glimpses  of  the  Hulder's  scarlet  bodice  and  golden 
hair,  and  the  vague  snatches  of  wondrous  melody 
that  rose  from  the  cataract  in  the  silent  summer 
nights,  filled  his  soul  with  an  intense  desire  to  see 
the  whole  Hulder,  with  her  radiant  smile  and  mel- 
ancholy eyes,  and  to  hear  the  whole  melody  plainly 
enough  to  be  written  down  on  paper  and  learned 
by  heart. 

It  was  with  this  longing  to  repeat  the  few  haunt- 
ine  notes  that  hummed  in  his  brain  that  Nils  went 
to  the  schoolmaster  one  day  and  asked  him  for  the 
loan  of  his  fiddle.  But  the  schoolmaster,  hearing 
that  Nils  could  not  play,  thought  his  request  a  fool- 
ish one  and  refused. 

Nevertheless,  that  visit  became  an  important 
event,  and  a  turning-point  in  the  boy's  life.  For 
he  was  moved  to  confide  in  the  schoolmaster,  who 
was  a  kindly  old  man,  and  fond  of  clever  boys;  and 
he  became  interested  in  Nils.  Though  he  regarded 
Nils's  desire  to  record  the  Nixy's  strains  as  absurd, 
he  offered  to  teach  him  to  play.  There  was  good 
stuff  in  the  lad,  he  thought,  and  when  he  had  out- 


64  BO  YHO OD  IN  NOR  IV A  V 

grown  his  fantastic  nonsense,  he  might,  very  likely, 
make  a  good  fiddler. 

Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  the  charcoal-burner's 
son  learned  to  play  the  violin.  He  had  not  had  half 
a  dozen  lessons  before  he  set  about  imitating  the 
Nixy's  notes  which  he  had  heard  in  the  waterfall. 

"  It  was  this  way,"  he  said  to  the  schoolmaster, 
pressing  his  ear  against  the  violin,  while  he  ran  the 
bow  lightly  over  the  strings  ;  "  or  rather  it  was  this 
way,"  making  another  ineffectual  effort.  *'  No,  no, 
that  wasn't  it,  either.  It's  no  use,  schoolmaster :  I 
shall  never  be  able  to  do  it !  "  he  cried,  flinging  the 
violin  on  the  table  and  rushing  out  of  the  door. 

When  he  returned  the  next  day  he  was  heartily 
ashamed  of  his  impatience.  To  try  to  catch  the 
Nixy's  notes  after  half  a  dozen  lessons  was,  of 
course,  an  absurdity. 

The  master  told  him  simply  to  banish  such  folly 
from  his  brain,  to  apply  himself  diligently  to  his 
scales,  and  not  to  bother  himself  about  the  Nixy. 

That  seemed  to  be  sound  advice  and  Nils  accepted 
it  with  contrition.  He  determined  never  to  repeat 
his  silly  experiment.  But  when  the  next  midsum- 
mer night  came,  a  wild  yearning  possessed  him,  and 
he  stole  out  noiselessly  into  the  forest,  and  sat  down 
on  a  stone  by  the  river,  listening  intently. 

For  a  long  while  he  heard  nothing  but  the 
monotonous  boom  of  the  water  plunging  into  the 
deep.     But,  strangely  enough,  there  was  a  vague, 


THE   NIXY'S  STRAIN  65 

hushed  rhythm  in  this  thundering  roar ;  and  after 
a  while  he  seemed  to  hear  a  faint  strain,  ravish- 
ingly  sweet,  which  vibrated  on  the  air  for  an  in- 
stant and  vanished. 

It  seemed  to  steal  upon  his  ear  unawares,  and 
the  moment  he  listened,  with  a  determination  to 
catch  it,  it  was  gone.  But  sweet  it  was — inex- 
pressibly sweet. 

Let  the  master  talk  as  much  as  he  liked,  catch 
it  he  would  and  catch  it  he  must.  But  he  must 
acquire  greater  skill  before  he  would  be  able  to 
render  something  so  delicate  and  elusive. 

Accordingly  Nils  applied  himself  with  all  his 
might  and  main  to  his  music,  in  the  intervals 
between  his  work. 

He  was  big  enough  now  to  accompany  his  father 
to  the  woods,  and  help  him  pile  turf  and  earth  on 
the  heap  of  logs  that  were  to  be  burned  to  char- 
coal. He  did  not  see  the  Hulder  face  to  face, 
though  he  was  constantly  on  the  watch  for  her ; 
but  once  or  twice  he  thought  he  saw  a  swift  flash 
of  scarlet  and  gold  in  the  underbrush,  and  again 
and  again  he  thought  he  heard  her  soft,  teasing 
laughter  in  the  alder  copses.  That,  too,  he  imag- 
ined he  might  express  in  music  ;  and  the  next  time 
he  got  hold  of  the  schoolmaster's  fiddle  he  quavered 
away  on  the  fourth  string,  but  produced  nothing 
that  had  the  remotest  resemblance  to  melody,  much 
less  to  that  sweet  laughter. 


66  BOYHOOD   IN  NORWAY 

He  grew  so  discouraged  that  he  could  have  wept. 
He  had  a  wild  impulse  to  break  the  fiddle,  and 
never  touch  another  as  long  as  he  lived.  But  he 
knew  he  could  not  live  up  to  any  such  resolution. 
The  fiddle  was  already  too  dear  to  him  to  be  re- 
nounced for  a  momentary  whim.  But  it  was  like 
an  unrequited  affection,  which  brought  as  much 
sorrow  as  joy. 

There  was  so  much  that  Nils  burned  to  express; 
but  the  fiddle  refused  to  obey  him,  and  screeched 
something  utterly  discordant,  as  it  seemed,  from 
sheer  perversity. 

It  occurred  to  Nils  again,  that  unless  the  Nixy 
took  pity  on  him  and  taught  him  that  marvellous, 
airy  strain  he  would  never  catch  it.  Would  he 
then  ever  be  good  enough  to  win  the  favor  of  the 
Nixy  ? 

For  in  the  fairy  tales  it  is  always  the  bad  people 
who  come  to  grief,  while  the  good  and  merciful 
ones  are  somehow  rewarded. 

It  was  evidently  because  he  was  yet  far  from  being 
good  enough  that  both  Hulder  and  Nixy  eluded 
him.  Sunday  child  though  he  was,  there  seemed 
to  be  small  chance  that  he  would  ever  be  able  to 
propound  his  three  wishes. 

Only  now,  the  third  wish  was  no  longer  a  five- 
bladed  pocket-knife,  but  a  violin  of  so  fine  a  ring 
and  delicate  modulation  that  it  might  render  the 
Nixy's  strain. 


THE  NIXY'S   STRAIN  6/ 

While  these  desires  and  fancies  fought  in  his 
heart,  Nils  grew  to  be  a  young  man  ;  and  he  still 
was,  what  he  had  always  been — a  charcoal-burner. 
He  went  to  the  parson  for  half  a  year  to  prepare 
for  confirmation  ;  and  by  his  gentleness  and  sweet- 
ness of  disposition  attracted  not  only  the  good  man 
himself,  but  all  with  whom  he  came  in  contact. 
His  answers  were  always  thoughtful,  and  betrayed 
a  good  mind. 

He  was  not  a  prig,  by  any  means,  who  held  aloof 
from  sport  and  play ;  he  could  laugh  with  the 
merriest,  run  a  race  with  the  swiftest,  and  try  a 
wrestling  match  with  the  strongest. 

There  was  no  one  among  the  candidates  for 
confirmation,  that  year,  who  was  so  well  liked  as 
Nils.  Gentle  as  he  was  and  soft-spoken,  there 
was  a  manly  spirit  in  him,  and  that  always  com- 
mands respect  among  boys. 

He  received  much  praise  from  the  pastor,  and 
no  one  envied  him  the  kind  words  that  were  ad- 
dressed to  him  ;  for  every  one  felt  that  they  were 
deserved.  But  the  thought  in  Nils's  mind  during 
all  the  ceremony  in  the  church  and  in  the  parsonage 
was  this  : 

"  Now,  perhaps,  I  shall  be  good  enough  to  win 
the  Nixy's  favor.  Now  I  shall  catch  the  wondrous 
strain." 

It  did  not  occur  to  him,  in  his  eagerness,  that  such 
a  reflection  was  out  of  place  in  church;  nor  was  it, 


68  BO  YHO OD  IN  NOR  WA  V 

perhaps,  for  the  Nixy's  strain  was  constantly  as- 
sociated in  his  mind  with  all  that  was  best  in  him  ; 
with  his  highest  aspirations,  and  his  constant  striv- 
ings for  goodness  and  nobleness  in  thought  and 
deed. 

It  happened  about  this  time  that  the  old  school- 
master died,  and  in  his  will  it  was  found  that  he 
had  bequeathed  his  fiddle  to  Nils.  He  had  very 
little  else  to  leave,  poor  fellow ;  but  if  he  had  been 
a  Croesus  he  could  not  have  given  his  favorite  pu- 
pil anything  that  would  have  delighted  him  more. 

Nils  played  now  early  and  late,  except  when  he 
was  in  the  woods  with  his  father.  His  fame  went 
abroad  through  all  the  valley  as  the  best  fiddler  in 
seven  parishes  round,  and  people  often  came  from 
afar  to  hear  him.  There  was  a  peculiar  quality  in 
his  playing — something  strangely  appealing,  that 
brought  the  tears  to  one's  eyes — yet  so  elusive  that 
it  was  impossible  to  repeat  or  describe  it. 

It  was  rumored  among  the  villagers  that  he  had 
caught  the  Nixy's  strain,  and  that  it  was  that  which 
touched  the  heart  so  deeply  in  his  improvisations. 
But  Nils  knew  well  that  he  had  not  caught  the 
Nixy's  strain ;  though  a  faint  echo — a  haunting 
undertone — of  that  vaguely  remembered  snatch  of 
melody,  heard  now  and  then  in  the  water's  roar, 
would  steal  at  times  into  his  music,  when  he  was, 
perhaps,  himself  least  aware  of  it. 

Invitations  now  came  to  him  from  far  and  wide 


THE   NIXY'S  STRAIN  69 

to  play  at  wedding  and  dancing  parties  and  funerals. 
There  was  no  feast  complete  without  Nils  ;  and 
soon  this  strange  thing  was  noticed,  that  quarrels 
and  brawls,  which  in  those  days  were  common 
enough  in  Norway,  were  rare  wherever  Nils  played. 

It  seemed  as  if  his  calm  and  gentle  presence  called 
forth  all  that  was  good  in  the  feasters  and  banished 
whatever  was  evil.  Such  was  his  popularity  that 
he  earned  more  money  by  his  fiddling  in  a  week 
than  his  father  had  ever  done  by  charcoal-burning 
in  a  month. 

A  half-superstitious  regard  for  him  became  general 
among  the  people;  first,  because  it  seemed  impos- 
sible that  any  man  could  play  as  he  did  without  the 
aid  of  some  supernatural  power ;  and  secondly,  be- 
cause his  gentle  demeanor  and  quaint,  terse  sayings 
inspired  them  with  admiration.  It  was  difficult  to 
tell  by  whom  the  name,  Wise  Nils,  was  first  started, 
but  it  was  felt  by  all  to  be  appropriate,  and  it  there- 
fore clung  to  the  modest  fiddler,  in  spite  of  all  his 
protests. 

Before  he  was  twenty-five  years  old  it  became 
the  fashion  to  go  to  him  and  consult  him  in  difficult 
situations ;  and  though  he  long  shrank  from  giving 
advice,  his  reluctance  wore  away,  when  it  became 
evident  to  him  that  he  could  actually  benefit  the 
people. 

There  was  nothing  mysterious  in  his  counsel. 
All  he  said  was  as  clear  and  rational  as  the  day- 


70  BOYHOOD   IN  NORWAY 

light.  But  the  good  folk  were  nevertheless  inclined 
to  attribute  a  higher  authority  to  him  ;  and  would 
desist  from  vice  or  folly  for  his  sake,  when  they 
would  not  for  their  own  sake.  It  was  odd,  indeed  : 
this  Wise  Nils,  the  fiddler,  became  a  great  man 
in  the  valley,  and  his  renown  went  abroad  and 
brought  him  visitors,  seeking  his  counsel,  from 
distant  parishes.  Rarely  did  anyone  leave  him  dis- 
appointed, or  at  least  without  being  benefited  by 
his  sympathetic  advice. 

One  summer,  during  the  tourist  season,  a  famous 
foreign  musician  came  to  Norway,  accompanied  by 
a  rich  American  gentleman.  While  in  his  neigh- 
borhood, they  heard  the  story  of  the  rustic  fiddler, 
and  became  naturally  curious  to  see  him. 

They  accordingly  went  to  his  cottage,  in  order 
to  have  some  sport  with  him,  for  they  expected 
to  find  a  vain  and  ignorant  charlatan,  inflated  by 
the  flattery  of  his  more  ignorant  neighbors.  But 
Nils  received  them  with  a  simple  dignity  which 
quite  disarmed  them.  They  had  come  to  mock  ; 
they  stayed  to  admire.  This  peasant's  artless 
speech,  made  up  of  ancient  proverbs  and  shrewd 
common-sense,  and  instinct  with  a  certain  sunny 
beneficence,  impressed  them  wonderfully. 

And  when,  at  their  request,  he  played  some  of 
his  improvisations,  the  renowned  musician  exclaimed 
that  here  was,  indeed,  a  great  artist  lost  to  the 
world.     In  spite  of    the  poor  violin,  there   was  a 


THE  NIXY'S  STRAIN-  7 1 

marvellously  touching  quality  in  the  music;  some- 
thing new  and  alluring  which  had  never  been  heard 
before. 

But  Nils  himself  was  not  aware  of  it.  Occasion- 
ally, while  he  played,  the  Nixy's  haunting  strain 
would  flit  through  his  brain,  or  hover  about  it, 
where  he  could  feel  it,  as  it  were,  but  yet  be  un- 
able to  catch  it.  This  was  his  regret — his  constant 
chase  for  those  elusive  notes  that  refused  to  be 
captured. 

But  he  consoled  himself  many  a  time  with  the 
reflection  that  it  was  the  fiddle's  fault,  not  his  own. 
With  a  finer  instrument,  capable  of  rendering  more 
delicate  shades  of  sound,  he  might  yet  surprise  the 
Nixy's  strain,  and  record  it  unmistakably  in  black 
and  white. 

The  foreign  musician  and  his  American  friend 
departed,  but  returned  at  the  end  of  two  weeks. 
They  then  offered  to  accompany  Nils  on  a  concert 
tour  through  all  the  capitals  of  Europe  and  the 
large  cities  of  America,  and  to  insure  him  a  sum 
of  money  which  fairly  made  him  dizzy. 

Nils  begged  for  time  to  consider,  and  the  next 
day  surprised  them  by  declining  the  startling  ofTer. 

He  was  a  peasant,  he  said,  and  must  remain  a 
peasant.  He  belonged  here  in  his  native  valley, 
where  he  could  do  good,  and  was  happy  in  the 
belief  that  he  was  useful. 

Out  in  the  great  world,  of  which  he  knew  noth- 


72  BO  YHO OD  IN  NOR  WA  V 

ing,  he  might  indeed  gather  wealth,  but  he  might 
lose  his  peace  of  mind,  which  was  more  precious 
than  wealth.  He  was  content  with  a  moderate 
prosperity,  and  that  he  had  already  attained.  He 
had  enough,  and  more  than  enough,  to  satisfy  his 
modest  wants,  and  to  provide  those  who  were  dear 
to  him  with  reasonable  comfort  in  their  present 
condition  of  life. 

The  strangers  were  amazed  at  a  man's  thus  calmly 
refusing  a  fortune  that  was  within  his  easy  grasp, 
for  they  did  not  doubt  that  Nils,  with  his  entirely 
unconventional  manner  of  playing,  and  yet  with 
that  extraordinary  moving  quality  in  his  play,  would 
become  the  rage  both  in  Europe  and  America,  as  a 
kind  of  heaven-born,  untutored  genius,  and  fill  both 
his  own  pockets  and  theirs  with  shekels. 

They  made  repeated  efforts  to  persuade  him,  but 
it  was  all  in  vain.  With  smiling  serenity,  he  told 
them  that  he  had  uttered  his  final  decision.  They 
then  took  leave  of  him,  and  a  month  after  their 
departure  there  arrived  from  Germany  a  box  ad- 
dressed to  Nils.  He  opened  it  with  some  trepida- 
tion, and  it  was  found  to  contain  a  Cremona  violin 
— a  genuine  Stradivarius. 

The  moment  Nils  touched  the  strings  with  the 
bow,  a  thrill  of  rapture  went  through  him,  the  like 
of  which  he  had  never  experienced.  The  divine 
sweetness  and  purity  of  the  tone  that  vibrated 
through  those  magic  chambers  resounded  through 


THE   NIXY'S   STRAIN  73 

all  his  being,  and  made  him  feel  happy  and  ex- 
alted. 

It  occurred  to  him,  while  he  was  coaxing  the 
intoxicating  music  from  his  instrument,  that  to- 
night would  be  midsummer  night.  Now  was  his 
chance  to  catch  the  Nixy's  strain,  for  this  exquisite 
violin  would  be  capable  of  rendering  the  very  chant 
of  the  archangels  in  the  morning  of  time. 

To-night  he  would  surprise  the  Nixy,  and  the 
divine  strain  should  no  more  drift  like  a  melodious 
mist  through  his  brain  ;  for  at  midsummer  night  the 
Nixy  always  plays  the  loudest,  and  then,  if  ever,  is 
the  time  to  learn  what  he  felt  must  be  the  highest 
secret  of  the  musical  art. 

Hugging  his  Stradivarius  close  to  his  breast,  to 
protect  it  from  the  damp  night-air.  Nils  hurried 
through  the  birch  woods  down  to  the  river.  The 
moon  was  sailing  calmly  through  a  fleecy  film  of 
cloud,  and  a  light  mist  hovered  over  the  tops  of  the 
forest. 

The  fiery  afterglow  of  the  sunset  still  lingered  in 
the  air,  though  the  sun  had  long  been  hidden,  but 
the  shadows  of  the  trees  were  gaunt  and  dark,  as 
in  the  light  of  the  moon. 

The  sound  of  the  cataract  stole  with  a  whispering 
rush  through  the  underbrush,  for  the  water  was  low 
at  midsummer,  and  a  good  deal  of  it  was  diverted  to 
the  mill,  which  was  working  busily  away,  with  its 
big  water-wheel  going  round  and  round. 


74  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

Nils  paused  close  to  the  mill,  and  peered  intently 
into  the  rushing  current;  but  nothing  appeared. 
Then  he  stole  down  to  the  river-bank,  where  he 
seated  himself  on  a  big  stone,  barely  out  of  reach 
of  the  spray,  which  blew  in  gusts  from  the  cataract. 
He  sat  for  a  long  while  motionless,  gazing  with  rapt 
intentness  at  the  struggling,  foaming  rapids,  but  he 
saw  or  heard  nothing. 

Then  all  of  a  sudden  it  seemed  to  him  that  the 
air  began  to  vibrate  faintly  with  a  vague,  captivat- 
ing rhythm.  Nils  could  hear  his  heart  beat  in  his 
throat.  With  trembling  eagerness  he  unwrapped 
the  violin  and  raised  it  to  his  chin. 

Now,  surely,  there  was  a  note.  It  belonged  on 
the  A  string.  No,  not  there.  On  the  E  string,  per- 
haps.    But  no,  not  there,  either. 

Look  !     What  is  that  ? 

A  flash,  surely,  through  the  water  of  a  beautiful 
naked  arm. 

And  there — no,  not  there — but  somewhere  from 
out  of  the  gentle  rush  of  the  middle  current  there 
seemed  to  come  to  him  a  marvellous  mist  of  drift- 
ing sound — ineffably,  rapturously  sweet ! 

With  a  light  movement  Nils  runs  his  bow  over 
the  strings,  but  not  a  ghost,  not  a  semblance,  can 
he  reproduce  of  the  swift,  scurrying  flight  of  that 
wondrous  melody.  Again  and  again  he  listens 
breathlessly,  and  again  and  again  despair  over- 
whelms him. 


THE   NJXY'S  STRAIN-  75 

Should  he,  then,  never  see  the  Nixy,  and  ask  the 
fulfilment  of  his  three  wishes  ? 

Curiously  enough,  those  three  wishes  which  once 
were  so  great  a  part  of  his  life  had  now  almost 
escaped  him.  It  was  the  Nixy's  strain  he  had  been 
intent  upon,  and  the  wishes  had  lapsed  into  ob- 
livion. 

And  what  were  they,  really,  those  three  wishes, 
for  the  sake  of  which  he  desired  to  confront  the 
Nixy  ? 

Well,  the  first— the  first  was — what  was  it,  now  ? 
Yes,  now  at  length  he  remembered.  The  first  was 
wisdom. 

Well,  the  people  called  him  Wise  Nils  now,  so, 
perhaps,  that  wish  was  superfluous.  Very  likely  he 
had  as  much  wisdom  as  was  good  for  him.  At  all 
events,  he  had  refused  to  acquire  more  by  going 
abroad  to  acquaint  himself  with  the  affairs  of  the 
great  world. 

Then  the  second  wish ;  yes,  he  could  recall  that. 
It  was  fame.  It  was  odd  indeed  ;  that,  too,  he  had 
refused,  and  what  he  possessed  of  it  was  as  much, 
or  even  far  more,  than  he  desired.  But  when  he 
called  to  mind  the  third  and  last  of  his  boyish 
wishes,  a  moderate  prosperity  or  a  good  violin — for 
that  was  the  alternative — he  had  to  laugh  outright, 
for  both  the  violin  and  the  prosperity  were  already 
his. 

Nils  lapsed  into  deep  thought,  as  he  sat  there  in 


76  BO  YHO OD  IN  NOR IV A  V 

the  summer  night,  with  the  crowns  of  the  trees 
above  him  and  the  brawling  rapids  swirling  about 
him. 

Had  not  the  Nixy  bestowed  upon  him  her  best 
gift  already  in  permitting  him  to  hear  that  exquisite 
ghost  of  a  melody,  that  shadowy,  impalpable  strain, 
which  had  haunted  him  these  many  years  ?  In  pur- 
suing that  he  had  gained  the  goal  of  his  desires,  till 
other  things  he  had  wished  for  had  come  to  him 
unawares,  as  it  were,  and  almost  without  his  know- 
ing it.  And  now  what  had  he  to  ask  of  the  Nixy, 
who  had  blessed  him  so  abundantly  ? 

The  last  secret,  the  wondrous  strain,  forsooth, 
that  he  might  imprison  it  in  notes,  and  din  it  in  the 
ears  of  an  unappreciative  multitude !  Perhaps  it 
were  better,  after  all,  to  persevere  forever  in  the 
quest,  for  what  would  life  have  left  to  offer  him  if 
the  Nixy's  strain  was  finally  caught,  when  all  were 
finally  attained,  and  no  divine  melody  haunted  the 
brain,  beyond  the  powers  even  of  a  Stradivarius  to 
lure  from  its  shadowy  realm  ? 

Nils  walked  home  that  night  plunged  in  deep 
meditation.  He  vowed  to  himself  that  he  would 
never  more  try  to  catch  the  Nixy's  strain.  But  the 
next  day,  when  he  seized  the  violin,  there  it  was 
again,  and,  strive  as  he  might,  he  could  not  forbear 
trying  to  catch  it. 

Wise  Nils  is  many  years  older  now  ;  has  a  good 
wife  and  several  childrc-n,  and  is  a  happy  man  ;  but 


THE   NIXY'S  STRAIN  77 

to  this  day,  resolve  as  he  will,  he  has  never  been 
able  to  abandon  the  effort  to  catch  the  Nixy's  strain. 
Sometimes  he  thinks  he  has  half  caught  it,  but 
when  he  tries  to  play  it,  it  is  always  gone. 


THE   WONDER    CHILD 


I. 


A  VERY  common  belief  in  Norway,  as  in  many 
other  lands,  is  that  the  seventh  child  of  the  seventh 
child  can  heal  the  sick  by  the  laying  on  of  hands. 
Such  a  child  is  therefore  called  a  wonder  child. 
Little  Carina  Holt  was  the  seventh  in  a  family  of 
eight  brothers  and  sisters,  but  she  grew  to  be  six 
years  old  before  it  became  generally  known  that  she 
was  a  wonder  child.  Then  people  came  from  afar 
to  see  her,  bringing  their  sick  with  them ;  and 
morning  after  morning,  as  Mrs.  Holt  rolled  up  the 
shades,  she  found  invalids,  seated  or  standing  in  the 
snow,  gazing  with  devout  faith  and  anxious  longing 
toward  Carina's  window. 

It  seemed  a  pity  to  send  them  away  uncomforted, 
when  the  look  and  the  touch  cost  Carina  so  little. 
But  there  was  another  fear  that  arose  in  the 
mother's  breast,  and  that  was  lest  her  child  should 
be  harmed  by  the  veneration  with  which  she  was 
regarded,  and  perhaps  come  to  believe  that  she  was 
something  more   than   a  common   mortal.     What 


THE    WONDER    CHILD  79 

was  more  natural  than  that  a  child  who  was  told  by 
grown-up  people  that  there  was  healing  in  her 
touch,  should  at  last  come  to  believe  that  she  was 
something  apart  and  extraordinary  ? 

It  would  have  been  a  marvel,  indeed,  if  the  con- 
stant attention  she  attracted,  and  the  pilgrimages 
that  were  made  to  her,  had  failed  to  make  any  im- 
pression upon  her  sensitive  mind.  Vain  she  was 
not,  and  it  would  have  been  unjust  to  say  that  she 
was  spoiled.  She  had  a  tender  nature,  full  of  sym- 
pathy for  sorrow  and  suffering.  She  was  constantly 
giving  away  her  shoes,  her  stockings,  nay,  even  her 
hood  and  cloak,  to  poor  little  invalids,  whose  misery 
appealed  to  her  merciful  heart.  It  was  of  no  use  to 
scold  her ;  you  could  no  more  prevent  a  stream 
from  flowing  than  Carina  from  giving.  It  was  a 
spontaneous  yielding  to  an  impulse  that  was  too 
strong  to  be  resisted. 

But  to  her  father  there  was  something  unnatural 
in  it ;  he  would  have  preferred  to  have  her  frankly 
selfish,  as  most  children  are,  not  because  he  thought 
it  lovely,  but  because  it  was  childish  and  natural. 
Her  unusual  goodness  gave  him  a  pang  more  pain- 
ful than  ever  the  bad  behavior  of  her  brothers  had 
occasioned.  On  the  other  hand,  it  delighted  him 
to  see  her  do  anything  that  ordinary  children  did. 
He  was  charmed  if  she  could  be  induced  to  take 
part  in  a  noisy  romp,  play  tag,  or  dress  her  dolls. 
But  there  followed  usually  after  each  outbreak  of 


80  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

natural  mirth  a  shy  withdrawal  into  herself,  a  reso^ 
lute  and  quiet  retirement,  as  if  she  were  a  trifle 
ashamed  of  her  gayety.  There  was  nothing  morbid 
in  these  moods,  no  brooding  sadness  or  repentance, 
but  a  touching  solemnity,  a  serene,  almost  cheer- 
ful seriousness,  which  in  one  of  her  years  seemed 
strange. 

Mr.  Holt  had  many  a  struggle  with  himself  as  to 
how  he  should  treat  Carina's  delusion ;  and  he 
made  up  his  mind,  at  last,  that  it  was  his  duty  to  do 
everything  in  his  power  to  dispel  and  counteract  it. 
When  he  happened  to  overhear  her  talking  to  her 
dolls  one  day,  laying  her  hands  upon  them,  and 
curing  them  of  imaginary  diseases,  he  concluded  it 
was  high  time  for  him  to  act.  He  called  Carina  to 
him,  remonstrated  kindly  with  her,  and  forbade  her 
henceforth  to  see  the  people  who  came  to  her  for 
the  purpose  of  being  cured.  But  it  distressed  him 
greatly  to  see  how  reluctantly  she  consented  to 
obey  him. 

When  Carina  awoke  the  morning  after  this  prom- 
ise had  been  extorted  from  her,  she  heard  the  dogs 
barking  furiously  in  the  yard  below.  Her  elder 
sister,  Agnes,  was  standing  half  dressed  before  the 
mirror,  holding  the  end  of  one  blond  braid  between 
her  teeth,  while  tying  the  other  with  a  pink  ribbon. 
Seeing  that  Carina  was  awake,  she  gave  her  a  nod 
in  the  glass,  and,  removing  her  braid,  observed  that 


THE    WONDER    CHILD  8 1 

there  evidently  were  sick  pilgrims  under  the  win- 
dow. She  could  sympathize  with  Sultan  and  Hec- 
tor, she  averred,  in  their  dislike  of  pilgrims. 

"Oh,  I  wish  they  would  not  come!"  sighed 
Carina.  "  It  will  be  so  hard  for  me  to  send  them 
away." 

"  I  thought  you  liked  curing  people,"  exclaimed 
Agnes. 

"  I  do,  sister,  but  papa  has  made  me  promise 
never  to  do  it  again." 

She  arose  and  began  to  dress,  her  sister  assisting 
her,  chatting  all  the  while  like  a  gay  little  chir- 
ruping bird  that  neither  gets  nor  expects  an  answer. 
She  was  too  accustomed  to  Carina's  moods  to  be 
either  annoyed  or  astonished  ;  but  she  loved  her  all 
the  same,  and  knew  that  her  little  ears  were  wide 
open,  even  though  she  gave  no  sign  of  listening. 

Carina  had  just  completed  her  simple  toilet  when 
Guro,  the  chamber-maid,  entered,  and  announced 
that  there  were  some  sick  folk  below  who  wished  to 
see  the  wonder  child. 

"Tell  them  I  cannot  see  them,"  answered  Carina, 
with  a  tremulous  voice;  "papa  does  not  permit 
me. 

"  But  this  man,  Atle  Pilot,  has  come  from  so  far 

away  in  this  dreadful  cold,"  pleaded  Guro,   "  and 

his  son  is  so  very  bad,  poor  thing  ;  he's  lying  down 

in  the  boat,  and  he  sighs  and  groans  fit  to  move  a 

stone." 

6 


82  BO  YHO OD  IN  NOR IVA  Y 

**  Don't!  Don't  tell  her  that,"  interposed  Agnes, 
motioning  to  the  girl  to  begone.  "  Don't  you  see 
it  is  hard  enough  for  her  already  ?  " 

There  was  something  in  the  air,  as  the  two  sisters 
descended  the  stairs  hand  in  hand,  which  foreboded 
calamity.  The  pastor  had  given  out  from  the  pul- 
pit last  Sunday  that  he  would  positively  receive  no 
invalids  at  his  house ;  and  he  had  solemnly  charged 
every  one  to  refrain  from  bringing  their  sick  to  his 
daughter.  He  had  repeated  this  announcement 
again  and  again,  and  he  was  now  very  much  an- 
noyed at  his  apparent  powerlessness  to  protect  his 
child  from  further  imposition.  Loud  and  angry 
speech  was  heard  in  his  office,  and  a  noise  as  if  the 
furniture  were  being  knocked  about.  The  two  little 
girls  remained  standing  on  the  stairs,  each  gazing  at 
the  other's  frightened  face.  Then  there  was  a  great 
bang,  and  a  stalwart,  elderly  sailor  came  tumbling 
head  foremost  out  into  the  hall.  His  cap  was  flung 
after  him  through  the  crack  of  the  door.  Agnes 
saw  for  an  instant  her  father's  face,  red  and  excited ; 
and  in  his  bearing  there  was  something  wild  and 
strange,  which  was  so  different  from  his  usual  gentle 
and  dignified  appearance.  The  sailor  stood  for  a 
while  bewildered,  leaning  against  the  wall ;  then  he 
stooped  slowly  and  picked  up  his  cap.  But  the 
moment  he  caught  sight  of  Carina  his  embarrass- 
ment vanished,  and  his  rough  features  were  illu- 
minated with  an  intense  emotion. 


THE    WONDER    CHILD  83 

"  Come,  little  miss,  and  help  me,"  he  cried,  in  a 
hoarse,  imploring  whisper.  "  Halvor,  my  son — he 
is  the  only  one  God  gave  me — he  is  sick ;  he  is 
going  to  die,  miss,  unless  you  take  pity  on  him." 

"  Where  is  he  ?''  asked  Carina. 

*'  He's  down  in  the  boat,  miss,  at  the  pier.  But 
I'll  carry  him  up  to  you,  if  you  like.  We  have 
been  rowing  half  the  night  in  the  cold,  and  he  is 
very  low." 

*'  No,  no ;  you  mustn't  bring  him  here,"  said 
Agnes,  seeing  by  Carina's  face  that  she  was  on  the 
point  of  yielding.     "  Father  would  be  so  angr}^" 

"  He  may  kill  me  if  he  likes,"  exclaimed  the 
sailor,  wildly.  "  It  doesn't  matter  to  me.  But 
Halvor  he's  the  only  one  I  have,  miss,  and  his 
mother  died  when  he  was  born,  and  he  is  young, 
miss,  and  he  will  have  many  years  to  live,  if  you'll 
only  have  mercy  on  him." 

"  But,  you  know,  I  shouldn't  dare,  on  papa's  ac- 
count, to  have  you  bring  him  here,"  began  Carina, 
struggling  with  her  tears. 

"  Ah,  yes  !  Then  you  will  go  to  him.  God  bless 
you  for  that ! "  cried  the  poor  man,  with  agonized 
eagerness.  And  interpreting  the  assent  he  read  in 
Carina's  eye,  he  caught  her  up  in  his  arms,  snatched 
a  coat  from  a  peg  in  the  wall,  and  wrapping  her  in 
it,  tore  open  the  door.  Carina  made  no  outcry,  and 
was  not  in  the  least  afraid.  She  felt  herself  resting 
in  two  strong  arms,  warmly  wrapped  and  borne  away 


84  BO  Y//0 OD  IN  NOR IV A  V 

at  a  great  speed  over  the  snow.  But  Agnes,  see- 
ing her  sister  vanish  in  that  sudden  fashion,  gave  a 
scream  which  called  her  father  to  the  door. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  he  asked.     *'  Where  is 
Carina?" 

"  That  dreadful  Atle  Pilot  took  her  and  ran  away 
with  her." 

*'  Ran  away  with  her  ?  "  cried  the  pastor  in  alarm. 
"  How  ?     Where  ?  " 

*'  Down  to  the  pier." 

It  was  a  few  moments'  work  for  the  terrified  fa- 
ther to  burst  open  the  door,  and  with  his  velvet 
skull-cap  on  his  head,  and  the  skirts  of  his  dressing- 
gown  flying  wildly  about  him,  rush  down  toward 
the  beach.  He  saw  Atle  Pilot  scarcely  fifty  feet  in 
advance  of  him,  and  shouted  to  him  at  the  top  of 
his  voice.  But  the  sailor  only  redoubled  his  speed, 
and  darted  out  upon  the  pier,  hugging  tightly  to 
his  breast  the  precious  burden  he  carried.  So  blind- 
ly did  he  rush  ahead  that  the  pastor  expected  to 
see  him  plunge  headlong  into  the  icy  waves.  But, 
as  by  a  miracle,  he  suddenly  checked  himself,  and 
grasping  with  one  hand  the  flag-pole,  swung  around 
it,  a  foot  or  two  above  the  black  water,  and  regained 
his  foothold  upon  the  planks.  He  stood  for  an  in- 
stant irresolute,  staring  down  into  a  boat  which  lay 
moored  to  the  end  of  the  pier.  What  he  saw  re- 
sembled a  big  bundle,  consisting  of  a  sheepskin  coat 
and  a  couple  of  horse-blankets. 


THE    WONDER   CHILD  85 

"  Halvor,"  he  cried,  with  a  voice  that  shook  with 
emotion,  "  I  have  brought  her." 

There  was  presently  a  vague  movement  under  the 
horse-blankets,  and  after  a  minute's  struggle  a  pale 
yellowish  face  became  visible.  It  was  a  young  face 
— the  face  of  a  boy  of  fifteen  or  sixteen.  But,  oh, 
what  suffering  was  depicted  in  those  sunken  eyes, 
those  bloodless,  cracked  lips,  and  the  shrunken  yel- 
low skin  which  clung  in  premature  wrinkles  about 
the  emaciated  features  !  An  old  and  worn  fur  cap 
was  pulled  down  over  his  ears,  but  from  under  its 
rim  a  few  strands  of  blond  hair  were  hanging  upon 
his  forehead. 

Atle  had  just  disentangled  Carina  from  her 
wrappings,  and  was  about  to  descend  the  stairs 
to  the  water  when  a  heavy  hand  seized  him  by 
the  shoulder,  and  a  panting  voice  shouted  in  his 
ear : 

"  Give  me  back  my  child." 

He  paused,  and  turned  his  pathetically  bewildered 
face  toward  the  pastor.  "  You  wouldn't  take  him 
from  me,  parson,"  he  stammered,  helplessly  ;  "  no, 
you  wouldn't.     He's  the  only  one  I've  got." 

"  I  don't  take  him  from  you,"  the  parson  thun- 
dered, wrathfuUy.  "  But  what  right  have  you  to 
come  and  steal  my  child,  because  yours  is  ill  ?  " 

"  When  life  is  at  stake,  parson,"  said  the  pilot, 
imploringly,  "one  gets  muddled  about  right  and 
wrong.      I'll  do  your  little  girl  no  harm.       Only  let 


86  BOYHOOD   IN  NORWAY 

her  lay  her  blessed  hands  upon  my  poor  boy's  head, 
and  he  will  be  well." 

"  I  have  told  you  no,  man,  and  I  must  put  a  stop 
to  this  stupid  idolatry,  which  will  ruin  my  child, 
and  do  you  no  good.  Give  her  back  to  me,  I  say, 
at  once." 

The  pastor  held  out  his  hand  to  receive  Carina, 
who  stared  at  him  with  large  pleading  eyes  out  of 
the  grizzly  wolf-skin  coat. 

*'  Be  good  to  him,  papa,"  she  begged.  "  Only 
this  once." 

"  No,  child  ;  no  parleying  now  ;  come  instantly." 

And  he  seized  her  by  main  force,  and  tore  her 
out  of  the  pilot's  arms.  But  to  his  dying  day  he 
remembered  the  figure  of  the  heart-broken  man,  as 
he  stood  outlined  against  the  dark  horizon,  shak- 
ing his  clinched  fists  against  the  sky,  and  crying  out, 
in  a  voice  of  despair  : 

"  May  God  show  you  the  same  mercy  on  the 
Judgment  Day  as  you  have  shown  to  me  1  '* 


II. 

Six  miserable  days  passed.  The  weather  was 
stormy,  and  tidings  of  shipwreck  and  calamity  filled 
the  air.  Scarcely  a  visitor  came  to  the  parsonage 
who  had  not  some  tale  of  woe  to  relate.  The  pastor, 
who  was  usually  so  gentle  and  cheerful,  wore  a  dis- 


THE    WONDER    CHILD  8/ 

mal  face,  and  it  was  easy  to  see  that  something  was 
weighing  on  his  mind. 

''  May  God  show  you  the  same  mercy  on  the 
Judgment  Day  as  you  have  shown  to  me  ! " 

These  words  rang  constantly  in  his  ears  by  night 
and  by  day.  Had  he  not  been  right,  according  to 
the  laws  of  God  and  man,  in  defending  his  house- 
hold against  the  assaults  of  ignorance  and  supersti- 
tion ?  Would  he  have  been  justified  in  sacrificing  his 
own  child,  even  if  he  could  thereby  save  another's  ? 
And,  moreover,  was  it  not  all  a  wild,  heathenish 
delusion,  which  it  was  his  duty  as  a  servant  of  God 
to  stamp  out  and  root  out  at  all  hazards  ?  Yes, 
there  could  be  no  doubt  of  it ;  he  had  but  exercised 
his  legal  right.  He  had  done  what  was  demanded 
of  him  by  laws  human  and  divine.  He  had  nothing 
to  reproach  himself  for.  And  yet,  with  a  haunting 
persistency,  the  image  of  the  despairing  pilot  pray- 
ing God  for  vengeance  stared  at  him  from  every 
dark  corner,  and  in  the  very  church  bells,  as  they 
rang  out  their  solemn  invitation  to  the  house  of  God, 
he  seemed  to  hear  the  rhythm  and  cadence  of  the 
heart-broken  father's  imprecation.  In  the  depth  of 
his  heart  there  was  a  still  small  voice  which  told  him 
that,  say  what  he  might,  he  had  acted  cruelly.  If 
he  put  himself  in  Atle  Pilot's  place,  bound  as  he 
was  in  the  iron  bonds  of  superstition,  how  different 
the  case  would  look  ?  He  saw  himself,  in  spirit, 
rowing  in  a  lonely  boat  through  the  stormy  winter 


88  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

night  to  his  pastor,  bringing  his  only  son,  who  was 
at  the  point  of  death,  and  praying  that  the  pastor's 
daughter  might  lay  her  hands  upon  him,  as  Christ 
had  done  to  the  blind,  the  halt,  and  the  maimed. 
And  his  pastor  received  him  with  wrath,  nay,  with 
blows,  and  sent  him  away  uncomforted.  It  was  a 
hideous  picture  indeed,  and  Mr.  Holt  would  have 
given  years  of  his  life  to  be  rid  of  it. 

It  was  on  the  sixth  day  after  Atle's  visit  that  the 
pastor,  sitting  alone  in  his  study,  called  Carina  to 
him.  He  had  scarcely  seen  her  during  the  last  six 
days,  or  at  least  talked  with  her.  Her  sweet  inno- 
cent spirit  would  banish  the  shadows  that  darkened 
his  soul. 

"  Carina,"  he  said,  in  his  old  affectionate  way, 
*'  papa  wants  to  see  you.  Come  here  and  let  me 
talk  a  little  with  you." 

But  could  he  trust  his  eyes  ?  Carina,  who  for- 
merly had  run  so  eagerly  into  his  arms,  stood  hesi- 
tating, as  if  she  hoped  to  be  excused. 

"  Well,  my  little  girl,"  he  asked,  in  a  tone  of 
apprehension,  "  don't  you  want  to  talk  with 
papa  ?  " 

"  I  would  rather  v/ait  till  some  other  time,  papa," 
she  managed  to  stammer,  while  her  little  face 
flushed  with  embarrassment. 

Mr.  Holt  closed  the  door  silently,  flung  himself 
into  a  chair,  and  groaned.  That  was  a  blow  from 
where  he  had  least  expected  it.      The  child  had 


THE    IVO.VDER    CHILD  89 

judged  him  and  found  him  wanting.  His  Carina, 
his  darling,  who  had  always  been  closest  to  his  heart, 
no  longer  responded  to  his  affection!  Was  the 
pilot's  prayer  being  fulfilled  ?  Was  he  losing  his 
own  child  in  return  for  the  one  he  had  refused  to 
save  ?  With  a  pang  in  his  breast,  which  was  like 
an  aching  wound,  he  walked  up  and  down  on  the 
floor  and  marvelled  at  his  own  blindness.  He  had 
^  erred  indeed  ;  and  there  was  no  hope  that  any  chance 
would  come  to  him  to  remedy  the  wrono- 

The  twilight  had  deepened  into  darkness  while  he 
revolved  this  trouble  in  his  mind.     The  night  was 
stormy,  and  the  limbs  of  the  trees  without  were  con- 
tinually knocking  and  bumping  against  the  walls  of 
the  house.     The   rusty  weather-vane   on    the    roof 
whined  and   screamed,  and  every  now  and  then   the 
sleet  dashed  against  the  window-panes  like  a  hand- 
ful of  shot.      The  wind    hurled    itself  against   the 
walls,  so   that   the   timbers  creaked  and  pulled  at 
the  shutters,  banged  stray  doors  in  out-of-the-way 
garrets,  and  then,    having   accomplished  its   work, 
whirled  away  over  the  fields  with   a  wild  and   dis- 
mal howl.     The  pastor  sat  listening  mournfully  to 
this   tempestuous    commotion.     Once   he   thought 
he  heard  a  noise  as  of  a  door  opening  near  by  him, 
and   softly   closing;    but   as    he   saw    no    one,    he 
concluded  it  was  his  overwrought  fancy  that  had 
played   him   a  trick.     He  seated   himself  again  in 
his  easy-chair  before  the  stove,  which  spread  a  dim 


90  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

light    from    its   draught-hole  into   the  surrounding 
gloom. 

While  he  sat  thus  absorbed  in  his  meditations,  he 
was  startled  at  the  sound  of  something  resembling  a 
sob.  He  arose  to  strike  a  light,  but  found  that  his 
match-safe  was  empty.  But  what  was  that  ?  A 
step  without,  surely,  and  the  groping  of  hands  for 
the  door-knob. 

"  Who  is  there  ?  "  cried  the  pastor,  with  a  shiver- 
ing uneasiness. 

He  sprang  forward  and  opened  the  door.  A 
broad  figure,  surmounted  by  a  sou'wester,  loomed 
up  in  the  dark. 

"  What  do  you  want  ? "  asked  Mr.  Holt,  with 
forced  calmness. 

"  I  want  to  know,"  answered  a  gruff,  hoarse  voice, 
"  if  you'll  come  to  my  son  now,  and  help  him  into 
eternity  ? '' 

The  pastor  recognized  Atle  Pilot's  voice,  though 
it  seemed  harsher  and  hoarser  than  usual. 

"  Sail  across  the  fjord  on  a  night  like  this  ?  "  he 
exclaimed. 

*'  That's  what  I  ask  you." 

"  And  the  boy  is  dying,  you  say  ?  " 

*'  Can't  last  till  morning." 

"  And  has  he  asked  for  the  sacrament  ?  " 

The  pilot  stepped  across  the  threshold  and  entered 
the  room.  He  proceeded  slowly  to  pull  off  his 
mittens ;  then  looking  up  at  the  pastor's  face,  upon 


THE    WONDER    CHILD  91 

which  a  vague  sheen  fell  from  the  stove,  he  broke 
out : 

"  Will  you  come  or  will  you  not  ?  You  wouldn't 
help  him  to  live  ;  now  will  you  help  him  to  die  ?" 

The  words,  thrust  forth  with  a  slow,  panting  em- 
phasis, hit  the  pastor  like  so  many  blows. 

"  I  will  come,"  he  said,  with  solemn  resolution. 
"  Sit  down  till  I  get  ready." 

He  had  expected  some  expression  of  gratification 
or  thanks,  for  Atle  well  knew  what  he  had  asked. 
It  was  his  life  the  pastor  risked,  but  this  time  in  his 
calling  as  a  physician,  not  of  bodies,  but  of  souls. 
It  struck  him,  while  he  took  leave  of  his  wife,  that 
there  was  something  resentful  and  desperate  in  the 
pilot's  manner,  so  different  from  his  humble  pleading 
at  their  last  meeting. 

As  he  embraced  the  children  one  by  one,  and 
kissed  them,  he  missed  Carina,  but  was  told  that 
she  had  probably  gone  to  the  cow-stable  with  the 
dairy-maid,  who  was  her  particular  friend.  So  he 
left  tender  messages  for  her,  and,  summoning  Atle, 
plunged  out  into  the  storm.  A  servant  walked 
before  him  with  a  lantern,  and  lighted  the  way 
down  to  the  pier,  where  the  boat  lay  tossing  upon 
the  waves. 

"  But,  man,"  cried  the  pastor,  seeing  that  the  boat 
was  empty,  "  where  are  your  boatmen  ?  " 

"  I  am  my  own  boatman,''  answered  Atle, 
gloomily.     "  You  can  hold  the  sheet,  I  the  tiller." 


92  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

Mr.  Holt  was  ashamed  of  retiring  now,  when  he 
had  given  his  word.  But  it  was  with  a  sinking 
heart  that  he  stepped  into  the  frail  skiff,  which 
seemed  scarcely  more  than  a  nutshell  upon  the 
tempestuous  deep.  He  was  on  the  point  of  asking 
his  servant,  unacquainted  though  he  was  with  sea- 
manship, to  be  the  third  man  in  the  boat ;  but  the 
latter,  anticipating  his  intention,  had  made  haste 
to  betake  himself  away.  To  venture  out  into  this 
roaring  darkness,  with  no  beacon  to  guide  them, 
and  scarcely  a  landmark  discernible,  was  indeed  to 
tempt  Providence. 

But  by  the  time  he  had  finished  this  reflection, 
the  pastor  felt  himself  rushing  along  at  a  tre- 
mendous speed,  and  short,  sharp  commands  rang  in 
his  ears,  which  instantly  engrossed  all  his  attention. 
To  his  eyes  the  sky  looked  black  as  ink,  except  for 
a  dark-blue  unearthly  shimmer  that  now  and  then 
flared  up  from  the  north,  trembled,  and  vanished. 
By  this  unsteady  illumination  it  was  possible  to 
catch  a  momentary  glimpse  of  a  head,  and  a  peak, 
and  the  outline  of  a  mountain.  The  small  sail  was 
double-reefed,  yet  the  boat  careened  so  heavily  that 
the  water  broke  over  the  gunwale.  The  squalls  beat 
down  upon  them  with  tumultuous  roar  and  smoke, 
as  of  snow-drifts,  in  their  wake  ;  but  the  little  boat, 
climbing  the  top  of  the  waves  and  sinking  into  the 
dizzy  black  pits  between  them,  sped  fearlessly  along 
and  the  pastor  began  to  take  heart.     Then,  with  a 


c    c    c  c  c   c 


THE    WONDER    CHILD  93 

fierce  cutting  distinctness,  came  the  command  out 

of  the  dark. 

"  Pull  out  the  reefs  ! '' 

"  Are  you  crazy,  man  ?"  shouted  the  pastor.  ^'  Do 
you  want  to  sail  straight  into  eternity  ?" 

"Pull  out  the  reefs!"  The  command  was  re- 
peated with  wrathful  emphasis. 

"  Then  we  are  dead  men,  both  you  and  I." 

"  So  we  are,  parson — dead  men.  My  son  lies 
dead  at  home,  though  you  might  have  saved  him. 
So,  now,  parson,  w^e  are  quits." 

With  a  fierce  laugh  he  rose  up,  and  still  holding 
the  tiller,  stretched  his  hand  to  tear  out  the  reefs. 
But  at  that  instant,  just  as  a  quivering  shimmer 
broke  across  the  sky,  something  rose  up  from  under 
the  thwart  and  stood  between  them.  Atle  started 
back  w^ith  a  hoarse  scream. 

"In  Heaven's  name,  child!"  he  cried.  "Oh, 
God,  have  mercy  upon  me  !  " 

And  the  pastor,  not  knowing  whether  he  saw  a 
child  or  a  vision,  cried  out  in  the  same  moment  : 
"  Carina,    my    darling !      Carina,    how   came    you 

here  ?  " 

It  was  Carina,  indeed  ;  but  the  storm  whirled 
her  tiny  voice  away  over  the  waves,  and  her  father, 
folding-  her  with  one  arm  to  his  breast,  while 
holding  the  sheet  with  the  other,  did  not  hear 
what  she  answered  to  his  fervent  exclamation.  He 
only  knew  that  her  dear  little  head  rested  close  to 


94  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

his  heart,  and  that  her  yellow  hair  blew  across  his 
face. 

"  I  wanted  to  save  that  poor  boy,  papa,"  were  the 
only  words  that  met  his  ears.  But  he  needed  no 
more  to  explain  the  mystery.  It  was  Carina,  who, 
repenting  of  her  unkindness  to  him,  had  stolen  into 
his  study,  while  he  sat  in  the  dark,  and  there  she 
had  heard  Atle  Pilot's  message.  Even  if  this  boy 
was  sick  unto  death,  she  might  perhaps  cure  him, 
and  make  up  for  her  father's  harshness.  Thus 
reasoned  the  sage  Carina  ;  and  she  had  gone  secretly 
and  prepared  for  the  voyage,  and  battled  with  the 
storm,  which  again  and  again  threw  her  down  on 
her  road  to  the  pier.  It  was  a  miracle  that  she  got 
safely  into  the  boat,  and  stowed  herself  away  snugly 
under  the  stern  thwart. 

The  clearing  in  the  north  gradually  spread  over 
the  sky,  and  the  storm  abated.  Soon  they  had  the 
shore  in  view,  and  the  lights  of  the  fishermen's  cot- 
tages gleamed  along  the  beach  of  the  headland. 
Presently  they  ran  into  smoother  water;  a  star  or 
two  flashed  forth,  and  wide  blue  expanses  appeared 
here  and  there  on  the  vault  of  the  sky.  They  spied 
the  red  lanterns  marking  the  wharf,  about  which  a 
multitude  of  boats  lay,  moored  to  stakes,  and  with 
three  skilful  tacks  Atle  made  the  harbor.  It  was 
here,  standing  on  the  pier,  amid  the  swash  and 
swirl  of  surging  waters,  that  the  pilot  seized  Cari- 
na's tiny  hand  in  his  big  and  rough  one. 


THE    WONDER    CHILD  95 

"  Parson,"  he  said,  with  a  breaking  voice,  "  I  was 
going  to  run  afoul  of  you,  and  wreck  myself  with 
you  ;  but  this  child,  God  bless  her  !  she  ran  us  both 
into  port,  safe  and  sound." 

But  Carina  did  not  hear  what  he  said,  for  she  lay 
sweetly  sleeping  in  her  father's  arms. 


"THE  SONS  OF  THE  VIKINGS 


I. 


When  Hakon  Vang  said  his  prayers  at  night,  he 
usually  finished  with  these  words :  "  And  I  thank 
thee,  God,  most  of  all,  because  thou  madest  me  a 
Norseman,  and  not  a  German  or  an  Englishman  or 
a  Swede." 

To  be  a  Norseman  appears  to  the  Norse  boy  a 
claim  to  distinction.  God  has  made  so  many  mil- 
lions of  Englishmen  and  Russians  and  Germans, 
that  there  can  be  no  particular  honor  in  being  one 
of  so  vast  a  herd  ;  while  of  Norsemen  He  has  made 
only  a  small  and  select  number,  whom  He  looks 
after  with  special  care ;  upon  whom  He  showers 
such  favors  as  poverty  and  cold  (with  a  view  to 
keeping  them  good  and  hardy),  and  remoteness 
from  all  the  glittering  temptations  that  beset  the 
nations  in  whom  He  takes  a  less  paternal  interest. 
Thus  at  least  reasons,  in  a  dim  way,  the  small  boy 
in  Norway ;  thus  he  is  taught  to  reason  by  his  par- 
ents and  instructors. 

As  for  Hakon  Vang,  he  strutted  along  the  beach 


^^THE   SONS    OF   THE    VIKINGS''  97 

like  a  turkey-cock,  whenever  he  thought  of  his 
glorious  descent  from  the  Vikings— those  daring 
pirates  that  stole  thrones  and  kingdoms,  and  mixed 
their  red  Norse  blood  in  the  veins  of  all  the  royal 
families  of  Europe.  The  teacher  of  history  (who 
was  what  is  called  a  Norse-Norseman)  had  on  one 
occasion,  with  more  patriotic  zeal  than  discretion, 
undertaken  to  pick  out  those  boys  in  his  class  who 
were  of  pure  Norse  descent ;  whose  blood  was  un- 
tainted by  any  foreign  admixture.  The  delighted 
pride  of  this  small  band  made  them  an  object  of 
envy  to  all  the  rest  of  the  school.  Hakon,  when 
his  name  was  mentioned,  felt  as  if  he  had  added  a 
yard  to  his  height.  Tears  of  joy  started  to  his 
eyes;  and  to  give  vent  to  his  overcharged  feelings, 
he  broke  into  a  war-whoop ;  for  which  he  received 
five  black  marks  and  was  kept  in  at  recess. 

But  he  minded  that  very  little  ;  all  great  men,  he 
reflected,  have  had  to  suffer  for  their  country. 

What  Hakon  loved  above  all  things  to  study- 
nay,  the  only  thing  he  loved  to  study— was  the  old 
Sagas,  which  are  tales,  poems,  and  histories  of  the 
deeds  of  the  Norsemen  in  ancient  times.  With 
eleven  of  his  classmates,  who  were  about  his  own 
age  and  as  Norse  as  himself,  he  formed  a  brother- 
hood which  was  called  "  The  Sons  of  the  Vikings." 
They  gave  each  other  tremendously  bloody  sur- 
names, in  the  style  of  the  Sagas— names  that  reeked 
with  o-ore   and   heroism.     Hakon  himself  assumed 


98  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

the  pleasing  appellation  "  Skull-splitter,"  and  his 
classmate  Frithjof  Ronning  was  dubbed  Vargr-i- 
Veum,  which  means  Wolf-in-the-Temple.  One  Son 
of  the  Vikings  was  known  as  Ironbeard,  another  as 
Erling  the  Lop-Sided,  a  third  as  Thore  the  Hound, 
a  fourth  as  Aslak  Stone-Skull.  But  a  serious  dif- 
ficulty, which  came  near  disrupting  the  brother- 
hood, arose  over  these  very  names.  It  was  felt  that 
Hakon  had  taken  an  unfair  advantage  of  the  rest  in 
selecting  the  bloodiest  name  at  the  outset  (before 
anyone  else  had  had  an  opportunity  to  choose),  and 
there  was  a  general  demand  that  he  should  give 
it  up  and  allow  all  to  draw  lots  for  it.  But  this 
Hakon  stoutly  refused  to  do  ;  and  declared  that 
if  anyone  wanted  his  name  he  would  have  to  fight 
for  it,  in  good  old  Norse  fashion. 

A  JLohn-gang  or  duel  was  then  arranged  ;  that  is, 
a  ring  was  marked  out  with  stones ;  the  combatants 
stepped  within  it,  and  he  who  could  drive  his  an- 
tagonist outside  of  the  stone  ring  was  declared  to  be 
the  victor.  Frithjof,  who  felt  that  he  had  a  better 
claim  to  be  named  Skull-Splitter  than  Hakon,  was 
the  first  to  accept  the  challenge  ;  but  after  a  terrible 
combat  was  forced  to  bite  the  dust.  His  conqueror 
was,  however,  filled  with  such  a  glowing  admiration 
of  his  valor  (as  combatants  in  the  Sagas  frequent- 
ly are),  that  he  proposed  that  they  should  swear 
eternal  friendship  and  foster-brotherhood,  and  seal 
their  compact,  according  to  Norse  custom,  by  the 


''THE   SONS   OF   THE    VIKINGS'*  99 

ceremony  called  "  Mingling  of  Blood."  It  is  need- 
less to  say  that  this  seemed  to  all  the  boys  a  most 
delightful  proposition  ;  and  they  entered  upon  the 
august  rite  with  a  deep  sense  of  its  solemnity. 

First  a  piece  of  sod,  about  twelve  feet  square,  was 
carefully  raised  upon  wooden  stakes  representing 
spears,  so  as  to  form  a  green  roof  over  the  foster- 
brothers.  Then,  sitting  upon  the  black  earth,  where 
the  turf  had  been  removed,  they  bared  their  arms 
to  the  shoulder,  and  in  the  presence  of  his  ten  breth- 
ren, as  witnesses,  each  swore  that  he  would  regard 
the  other  as  his  true  brother  and  love  him  and  treat 
him  as  such,  and  avenge  his  death  if  he  survived 
him  ;  in  solemn  testimony  of  which  each  drew  a 
knife  and  opened  a  vein  in  his  arm,  letting  their 
blood  mingle  and  flow  together.  Hakon,  however, 
in  his  heroic  zeal,  drove  the  knife  into  his  flesh 
rather  recklessly,  and  when  the  blood  had  flowed 
profusely  for  five  minutes,  he  grew  a  trifle  uneasy. 
Frithjof,  after  having  bathed  his  arm  in  a  neighbor- 
ing brook,  had  no  difficulty  in  stanching  the  blood, 
but  the  poor  Skull-Splitter's  wound,  in  spite  of  cold 
water  and  bandages,  kept  pouring  forth  its  warm 
current  without  sign  of  abatement.  Hakon  grew 
paler  and  paler,  and  would  have  burst  into  tears,  if 
he  had  not  been  a  "  Son  of  the  Vikings."  It  would 
have  been  a  relief  to  him,  for  the  moment,  not  to 
have  been  a  "  Son  of  the  Vikings."  For  he  was  ter- 
ribly frightened,  and  thought  surely  he  was  going 


lOO  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

to  bleed  to  death.  The  other  Vikings,  too,  began 
to  feel  rather  alarmed  at  such  a  prospect ;  and 
when  Erling  the  Lop-Sided  (the  pastor's  son)  pro- 
posed that  they  should  carry  Hakon  to  the  doctor, 
no  one  made  any  objection.  But  the  doctor  unhap- 
pily lived  so  far  away  that  Hakon  might  die  before 
he  got  there. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Wolf-in-the-Temple,  "  let  us 
take  him  to  old  Witch-Martha.  She  can  stanch 
blood  and  do  lots  of  other  queer  things." 

"Yes,  and  that  is  much  more  Norse,  too,"  sug- 
gested Thore  the  Hound  ;  "  wise  women  learned 
physic  and  bandaged  wounds  in  the  olden  time. 
Men  were  never  doctors." 

"Yes,  Witch-Martha  is  just  the  right  style,"  said 
Erling  the  Lop-Sided  down  in  his  boots  ;  for  he  had 
naturally  a  shrill  voice  and  gave  himself  great  pains 
to  produce  a  manly  bass. 

"  We  must  make  a  litter  to  carry  the  Skull-Split- 
ter on,"  exclaimed  Einar  Bowstring- Twanger  (the 
sheriff's  son);  "he'll  never  get  to  Witch-Martha 
alive  if  he  is  to  walk." 

This  suggestion  was  favorably  received  ;  the  boys 
set  to  work  with  a  will,  and  in  a  few  minutes  had 
put  together  a  litter  of  green  twigs  and  branches. 
Hakon,  who  was  feeling  curiously  light-headed  and 
exhausted,  allowed  himself  to  be  placed  upon  it  in  a 
reclining  position  ;  and  its  swinging  motion,  as  his 
friends  carried  it  along,  nearly  rocked  him  to  sleep. 


*'THE   SONS   OF  TIIE^   V^.^ING^V  V'^  'I04; 

The  fear  of  death  was  but  vaguely  present  to  his 
mind  ;  but  his  self-importance  grew  with  every  mo- 
ment, as  he  saw  his  blood  trickle  through  the  leaves 
and  drop  at  the  roadside.  He  appeared  to  himself 
a  brave  Norse  warrior  who  was  being  carried  by  his 
comrades  from  the  battle-field,  where  he  had  greatly 
distinguished  himself.  And  now  to  be  going  to  the 
witch  who,  by  magic  rhymes  and  incantations,  was 
to  stanch  the  ebbing  stream  of  his  life — what  could 
be  more  delightful  ? 

IL 

Witch-Martha  lived  in  a  small  lonely  cottage 
down  by  the  river.  Very  few  people  ever  went  to 
see  her  in  the  day-time  ;  but  at  night  she  often  had 
visitors.  Mothers  who  suspected  that  their  children 
were  changelings,  whom  the  Trolds  had  put  in  the 
cradle,  taking  the  human  infants  away ;  girls  who 
wanted  to  "  turn  the  hearts  "  of  their  lovers,  and 
lovers  who  wanted  to  turn  the  hearts  of  the  girls  ; 
peasants  who  had  lost  money  or  valuables  and 
wanted  help  to  trace  the  thief — these  and  many 
others  sought  secret  counsel  with  Witch  -  Martha, 
and  rarely  went  away  uncomforted.  She  was  an 
old  weather-beaten  woman  with  a  deeply  wrinkled, 
smoky-brown  face,  and  small  shrewd  black  eyes. 
The  floor  in  her  cottage  was  strewn  with  sand  and 
fresh  juniper  twigs  ;  from  the  rafters  under  the  ceil- 


1 02  B  ay  UP  OD  IN  NOR  WA  V 

insf  hune  bunches  of  strange  herbs ;  and  in  the 
windows  were  flower  -  pots  with  blooming  plants  in 
them. 

Martha  was  stooping  at  the  hearth,  blowing  and 
puffing  at  the  fire  under  her  coffee-pot,  when  the 
Sons  of  the  Vikings  knocked  at  the  door.  Wolf-in- 
the-Temple  was  the  man  who  took  the  lead  ;  and 
when  Witch-Martha  opened  the  upper  half  of  the 
door  (she  never  opened  both  at  the  same  time)  she 
was  not  a  little  astonished  to  see  the  Captain's  son, 
Frithjof  Ronning,  staring  up  at  her  with  an  anxious 
face. 

"  What  dost  thou  want,  lad  ?"  she  asked,  gruffly ; 
"  thou  hast  gone  astray  surely,  and  I'll  show  thee 
the  way  home." 

"I  am  Wolf -in -the -Temple,"  began  Frithjof, 
thrusting  out  his  chest,  and  raising  his  head  proudly. 

"  Dear  me,  you  don't  say  so  !  "  exclaimed  Martha. 

**  My  comrade  and  foster-brother  Skull-Splitter 
has  been  wounded  ;  and  I  want  thee,  old  crone,  to 
stanch  his  blood  before  he  bleeds  to  death." 

*'  Dear,  dear  me,  how  very  strange  !  "  ejaculated 
the  Witch,  and  shook  her  aged  head. 

She  had  been  accustomed  to  extraordinary  re- 
quests ;  but  the  language  of  this  boy  struck  her  as 
being  something  of  the  queerest  she  had  yet  heard. 

"  Where  is  thy  Skull-Splitter,  lad  ?  "  she  asked, 
looking  at  him  dubiously. 

"  Right  here  in  the   underbrush,"    Wolf-in-the- 


''THE   SONS   OF   THE    VIKINGS''  IO3 

Temple  retorted,  gallantly ;  "  stir  thy  aged  stumps 
now,  and  thou  shalt  be  right  royally  rewarded." 

He  had  learned  from  Walter  Scott's  romances 
that  this  was  the  proper  way  to  address  inferiors, 
and  he  prided  himself  not  a  little  on  his  jaunty  con- 
descension. Imagine  then  his  surprise  when  the 
"  old  crone ''  suddenly  turned  on  him  with  an  angry 
scowl  and  said  : 

"  If  thou  canst  not  keep  a  civil  tongue  in  thy 
head,  I'll  bring  a  thousand  plagues  upon  thee,  thou 
unmannerly  boy." 

By  this  threat  Wolf-in-the- Temple's  courage  was 
sadly  shaken.  He  knew  Martha's  reputation  as  a 
witch,  and  had  no  desire  to  test  in  his  own  person 
whether  rumor  belied  her. 

"  Please,  mum,  I  beg  of  you,"  he  said,  with  a  sud- 
den change  of  tone;  "my  friend  Hakon  Vang  is 
bleeding  to  death  ;  won't  you  please  help  him  ?" 

"  Thy  friend  Hakon  Vang !  "  cried  Martha,  to 
whom  that  name  was  very  familiar ;  "  bring  him  in, 
as  quick  as  thou  canst,  and  I'll  do  what  I  can  for 
him." 

Wolf  -  In  -  the -Temple  put  two  fingers  into  his 
mouth  and  gave  a  loud  shrill  whistle,  which  was  an- 
swered from  the  woods,  and  presently  the  small  pro- 
cession moved  up  to  the  door,  carrying  their  wound- 
ed comrade  between  them.  The  poor  Skull-Splitter 
was  now  as  white  as  a  sheet,  and  the  drowsiness  of 
his  eyes  and  the  laxness  of  his  features  showed  that 


104  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

help  came  none  too  early.  Martha,  in  hot  haste, 
grabbed  a  bag  of  herbs,  thrust  it  into  a  pot  of  warm 
water,  and  clapped  it  on  the  wound.  Then  she  be- 
gan to  wag  her  head  slowly  to  and  fro,  and  crooned, 
to  a  soft  and  plaintive  tune,  words  which  sounded 
to  the  ears  of  the  boys  shudderingly  strange : 

*'  I  conjure  in  water,  I  conjure  in  lead, 

I  conjure  with  herbs  that  grew  o'er  the  dead  ; 

I  conjure  with  flowers  that  I  plucked,  without  shoon, 

When  the  ghosts  were  abroad,  in  the  wane  of  the  moon. 

I  conjure  with  spirits  of  earth  and  air 

That  make  the  wind  sigh  and  cry  in  despair ; 

I  conjure  by  him  within  sevenfold  rings 

That  sits  and  broods  at  the  roots  of  things. 

I  conjure  by  him  who  healeth  strife, 

Who  plants  and  waters  the  germs  of  life. 

I  conjure,  I  conjure,  I  bid  thee  be  still. 

Thou  ruddy  stream,  thou  hast  flowed  thy  fill ! 

Return  to  thy  channel  and  nurture  his  life 

Till  his  destined  measure  of  years  be  rife." 

She  sang  the  last  two  lines  with  sudden  energy ; 
and  when  she  removed  her  hand  from  the  wound, 
the  blood  had  ceased  to  flow.  The  poor  Skull- 
Splitter  was  sleeping  soundly ;  and  his  friends, 
shivering  a  little  with  mysterious  fears,  marched  up 
and  down  whispering  to  one  another.  They  set  a 
guard  of  honor  at  the  leafy  couch  of  their  wounded 
comrade;  intercepted  the  green  worms  and  other 
insects  that  kept  dropping  down  upon  him  from  the 


''THE   SONS    OF  THE    VIKINGS''  IO5 

alder  branches  overhead,  and  brushed  away  the  flies 
that  would  fain  disturb  his  slumbers.  They  were 
all  steeped  to  the  core  in  old  Norse  heroism  ;  and 
they  enjoyed  the  situation  hugely.  All  the  life 
about  them  was  half  blotted  out ;  they  saw  it  but 
dimly.  That  light  of  youthful  romance,  which 
never  was  on  sea  or  land,  transformed  all  the  com- 
mon things  that  met  their  vision  into  something 
strange  and  wonderful.  They  strained  their  ears  to 
catch  the  meaning  of  the  song  of  the  birds,  so  that 
they  might  learn  from  them  the  secrets  of  the 
future,  as  Sigurd  the  Volsung  did,  after  he  had 
slain  the  dragon,  Fafnir.  The  woods  round  about 
them  were  filled  with  dragons  and  fabulous  beasts, 
whose  tracks  they  detected  with  the  eyes  of  faith ; 
and  they  started  out  every  morning,  during  the  all 
too  brief  vacation,  on  imaginary  expeditions  against 
imaginary  monsters. 

When  at  the  end  of  an  hour  the  Skull-Splitter 
woke  from  his  slumber,  much  refreshed,  Witch- 
Martha  bandaged  his  arm  carefully,  and  Wolf-in-the 
Temple  (having  no  golden  arm  -  rings)  tossed  her, 
with  magnificent  superciliousness,  his  purse,  which 
contained  six  cents.  But  she  flung  it  back  at  him 
with  such  force  that  he  had  to  dodge  with  more 
adroitness  than  dignity. 

"  I'll  get  my  claws  into  thee  some  day,  thou  fool- 
ish lad,"  she  said,  lifting  her  lean  vulture-like  hand 
with  a  threatening  gesture. 


1 05  BO  YHO OD  IN  NOR IV A  V 

"  No,  please  don't,  Martha,  I  didn't  mean  any. 
thing,"  cried  the  boy,  in  great  alarm ;  "  you'll  for- 
give me.  won't  you,  Martha  ?  " 

"  I'll  bid  thee  begone,  and  take  thy  foolish  tongue 
along  with  thee,"  she  answered,  in  a  mollified  tone. 

And  the  Sons  of  the  Vikings,  taking  the  hint, 
shouldered  the  litter  once  more,  and  reached  Skull- 
Splitter's  home  in  time  for  supper. 


III. 


The  Sons  of  the  Vikings  were  much  troubled. 
Every  heroic  deed  which  they  plotted  had  this  little 
disadvantage,  that  they  were  in  danger  of  going  to 
jail  for  it.  They  could  not  steal  cattle  and  horses,  be- 
cause they  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  them  when 
they  had  got  them  ;  they  could  not  sail  away  over 
the  briny  deep  in  search  of  fortune  or  glory,  because 
they  had  no  ships ;  and  sail-boats  were  scarcely  big 
enough  for  daring  voyages  to  the  blooming  South 
which  their  ancestors  had  ravaged.  The  precious 
vacation  was  slipping  away,  and  as  yet  they  had 
accomplished  nothing  that  could  at  all  be  called 
heroic.  It  was  while  the  brotherhood  was  lament- 
ing this  fact  that  Wolf-in-the-Temple  had  a  brilliant 
idea.  He  procured  his  father's  permission  to  invite 
his  eleven  companions  to  spend  a  day  and  a  night 
at  the  Ronning  sceter^  or  mountain  dairy,  far  up  in 


''THE   SONS   OF   THE    VIKINGS''  10/ 

the  highlands.  The  only  condition  Mr.  Ronning 
made  was  that  they  were  to  be  accompanied  by 
his  man,  Brumle-Knute,  who  was  to  be  responsible 
for  their  safety.  But  the  boys  determined  privately 
to  make  Brumle-Knute  their  prisoner,  in  case  he 
showed  any  disposition  to  spoil  their  sport.  To 
spend  a  day  and  a  night  in  the  woods,  to  imagine 
themselves  Vikings,  and  behave  as  they  imagined 
Vikings  would  behave,  was  a  prospect  which  no  one 
could  contemplate  without  the  most  delightful  ex- 
citement. There,  far  away  from  sheriffs  and  pas- 
tors and  maternal  supervision,  they  might  perhaps 
find  the  long-desired  chance  of  performing  their  he- 
roic deed. 

It  was  a  beautiful  morning  early  in  August  that 
the  boys  started  from  Strandholm,  Mr.  Ronning's 
estate,  accompanied  by  Brumle-Knute.  The  latter 
was  a  middle-aged,  round-shouldered  peasant,  who 
had  the  habit  of  always  talking  to  himself.  To 
look  at  him  you  would  have  supposed  that  he  was 
a  rough  and  stupid  fellow  who  would  have  quite 
enough  to  do  in  looking  after  himself.  But  the 
fact  was,  that  Brumle-Knute  was  the  best  shot,  the 
best  climber — and  altogether  the  most  keen  -  eyed 
hunter  in  the  whole  valley.  It  was  a  saying  that 
he  could  scent  game  so  well  that  he  never  needed  a 
dog;  and  that  he  could  imitate  to  perfection  the 
call  of  every  game  bird  that  inhabited  the  mountain 
glens.    Sweet-tempered  he  was  not ;  but  so  reliable, 


1 08  BO  YHO OD  I^  NOR  WA  Y 

skilful,  and  vigilant,  and  moreover  so  thorough  a 
woodsman,  that  the  boys  could  well  afford  to  put 
up  with  his  gruff  temper. 

The  Sons  of  the  Vikings  were  all  mounted  on 
ponies ;  and  Wolf-in-the-Temple,  who  had  been 
elected  chieftain,  led  the  troop.  At  his  side  rode 
Skull-Splitter,  who  was  yet  a  trifle  pale  after  his 
blood-letting,  but  brimming  over  with  ambition  to 
distinguish  himself.  They  had  all  tied  their  trousers 
to  their  legs  with  leather  thongs,  in  order  to  be 
perfectly  "  Old  Norse  ;  "  and  some  of  them  had 
turned  their  plaids  and  summer  overcoats  inside 
out,  displaying  the  gorgeous  colors  of  the  lining. 
Loosely  attached  about  their  necks  and  flying  in  the 
wind,  these  could  easily  serve  for  scarlet  or  purple 
cloaks  wrought  on  Syrian  looms.  Most  of  the  boys 
carried  also  wooden  swords  and  shields,  and  the 
chief  had  a  long  loor  or  Alpine  horn.  Only  the 
valiant  Ironbeard,  whose  father  was  a  military 
man,  had  a  real  sword  and  a  real  scabbard  into  the 
bargain.  Wolf-in-the-Temple,  and  Erling  the  Lop- 
sided, had  each  an  old  fowling-piece ;  and  Brumle- 
Knute  carried  a  double-barrelled  rifle.  This,  to  be 
sure,  was  not  quite  historically  correct  ;  but  fire- 
arms are  so  useful  in  the  woods,  even  if  they  are 
not  correct,  that  it  was  resolved  not  to  notice  the 
irregularity  ;  for  there  were  bears  in  the  mountains, 
besides  wolves  and  foxes  and  no  end  of  smaller 
game. 


''THE    SONS    OF   THE    VIKINGS''  lOQ 

For  ail  hour  or  more  the  procession  rode,  single 
file,  up  the  steep  and  rugged  mountain-paths ;  but 
the  boys  were  all  in  high  spirits  and  enjoyed  them- 
selves hugely.  The  mere  fact  that  they  were 
Vikings,  on  a  daring  foraging  expedition  into  a 
neighboring  kingdom,  imparted  a  wonderful  zest  to 
everything  they  did  and  said.  It  might  be  foolish, 
but  it  was  on  that  account  none  the  less  delightful. 
They  sent  out  scouts  to  watch  for  the  approach  of 
an  imaginary  enemy  ;  they  had  secret  pass-words 
and  signs ;  they  swore  (Viking  style)  by  Thor's 
hammer  and  by  Odin's  eye.  They  talked  appalling 
nonsense  to  each  other  with  a  delicious  sentiment  of 
its  awful  blood  -  curdling  character.  It  was  about 
noon  when  they  reached  the  Strandholm  sceter, 
which  consisted  of  three  turf-thatched  log-cabins  or 
chalets^  surrounded  by  a  green  inclosure  of  half  a 
dozen  acres.  The  wide  highland  plain,  eight  or 
ten  miles  long,  was  bounded  on  the  north  and  west 
by  throngs  of  snow-hooded  mountain  peaks,  which 
rose,  one  behind  another,  in  glittering  grandeur ; 
and  in  the  middle  of  the  plain  there  were  two  lakes 
or  tarns,  connected  by  a  river  which  was  milky 
white  where  it  entered  the  lakes  and  clear  as 
crystal  where  it  escaped. 

"  Now,  Vikings,"  cried  Wolf-in-the-Temple,  when 
the  boys  had  done  justice  to  their  dinner,  "  it  be- 
hooves us  to  do  valiant  deeds,  and  to  prove  our- 
selves worthy  of  our  fathers." 


no  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

"  Hear,  hear,"  shouted  Ironbeard,  who  was  four- 
teen years  old  and  had  a  shadow  of  a  moustache, 
"  1  am  in  for  great  deeds,  hip,  hip,  hurrah  !  " 

"  Hold  your  tongue  when  you  hear  me  speak," 
commanded  the  chieftain,  loftily ;  "  we  will  lie  in 
wait  at  the  ford,  between  the  two  tarns,  and  capture 
the  travellers  who  pass  that  way.  If  perchance  a 
princess  from  the  neighboring  kingdom  pass,  on  the 
way  to  her  dominions,  we  will  hold  her  captive  un- 
til her  father,  the  king,  comes  to  ransom  her  with 
heaps  of  gold  in  rings  and  fine  garments  and  pre- 
cious weapons." 

"  But  what  are  we  to  do  with  her  when  we  have 
caught  her  ?  "  asked  the  Skull-Splitter,  innocently. 

"  We  will  keep  her  imprisoned  in  the  empty  scster 
hut,"  Wolf-in-the-Temple  responded.  "  Now,  are 
you  ready?  We'll  leave  the  horses  here  on  the 
croft,  until  our  return." 

The  question  now  was  to  elude  Brumle-Knute's 
vigilance ;  for  the  Sons  of  the  Vikings  had  good 
reasons  for  fearing  that  he  might  interfere  with 
their  enterprise.  They  therefore  waited  until 
Brumle-knute  was  invited  by  the  dairymaid  to  sit 
down  to  dinner.  No  sooner  had  the  door  closed 
upon  his  stooping  figure,  than  they  stole  out 
through  a  hole  in  the  fence,  crept  on  all-fours  among 
the  tangled  dwarf-birches  and  the  big  gray  boulders, 
and  following  close  in  the  track  of  their  leader, 
reached  the  ford  between  the  lakes.     There  they 


*'THE   SONS   OF   THE    VIKINGS'*  III 

observed  two  enormous  heaps  of  stones  known  as 
the  Parson  and  the  Deacon  ;  for  it  had  been  the 
custom  from  immemorial  times  for  every  traveller  to 
fling  a  big  stone  as  a  "sacrifice"  for  good  luck  upon 
the  Parson's  heap  and  a  small  stone  upon  the 
Deacon's.  Behind  these  piles  of  stone  the  boys 
hid  themselves,  keeping  a  watchful  eye  on  the  road 
and  waiting  for  their  chief's  signal  to  pounce  upon 
unwary  travellers.  They  lay  for  about  fifteen  min- 
utes in  expectant  silence,  and  were  on  the  point  of 
losing  their  patience. 

"  Look  here,  Wolf-in-the-Temple,"  cried  Erling 
the  Lop-Sided,  "you  may  think  this  is  fun,  but  I 
don't.  Let  us  take  the  raft  there  and  go  fishing. 
The  tarn  is  simply  crowded  with  perch  and  bass." 

"  Hold  your  disrespectful  tongue,"  whispered  the 
chief,  warningly,  "  or  I'll  discipline  you  so  you'll  re- 
member it  till  your  dying  day." 

"  Ho,  ho  !  "  laughed  the  rebel,  jeeringly  ;  "  big 
words  and  fat  pork  don't  stick  in  the  throat.  Wait 
till  I  get  you  alone  and  we  shall  see  who'll  be  dis- 
ciplined." 

Erling  had  risen  and  was  about  to  emerge  from 
his  hiding-place,  when  suddenly  hoof-beats  were 
heard,  and  a  horse  was  seen  approaching,  carrying 
on  its  back  a  stalwart  peasant  lass,  in  whose  lap  a 
pretty  little  girl  of  twelve  or  thirteen  was  sitting. 
The  former  was  clad  in  scarlet  bodice,  a  black  em- 
broidered  skirt,  and   a   snowy-white  kerchief    was 


112  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

tied  about  her  head.  Her  blonde  hair  hung  in  gold, 
en  profusion  down  over  her  back  and  shoulders. 
The  little  girl  was  city-clad,  and  had  a  sweet  and 
appealing  face.  She  was  chattering  guilelessly  with 
her  companion,  asking  more  questions  than  she 
could  possibly  expect  to  have  answered.  Nearer 
and  nearer  they  came  to  the  great  stone  heaps,  dream- 
ing of  no  harm. 

"And,  Gunbjor,"  the  Skull-Splitter  heard  the 
little  girl  say,  "you  don't  really  believe  that  there 
are  trolds  and  fairies  in  the  mountains,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Them  as  are  wiser  than  I  am  have  believed 
that,"  was  Gunbjor's  answer ;  "  but  we  don't  hear 
so  much  about  the  trolds  nowadays  as  they  did 
when  my  granny  was  young.  Then  they  took 
young  girls  into  the  mountain  and " 

Here  came  a  wild,  piercing  yell,  as  the  Sons  of  the 
Vikings  rushed  forward  from  behind  the  rocks,  and 
with  a  terrible  war-whoop  swooped  down  upon  the 
road.  Wolf-in-the-Temple,  who  led  the  band,  seized 
the  horse  by  the  bridle,  and  flourishing  his  sword 
threateningly,  addressed  the  frightened  peasant  lass. 

"  Is  this,  perchance,  the  Princess  Kunigunde,  the 
heir  to  the  throne  of  my  good  friend.  King  Bjorn 
the  Victorious  ?  "  he  asked,  with  a  magnificent  air, 
seizing  the  trembling  little  girl  by  the  wrist. 

"  Nay,"  Gunbjor  answered,  as  soon  as  she  could 
find  her  voice,  "this  is  the  Deacon's  Maggie,  as  is 
going  to  the  sceter  with  me  to  spend  Sunday." 


^     )  "i   >      T     3 


5         »     O  1       '    1 


Q 
K 

Pi 
z 

3 


*■' THE   SOXS    OF   THE    VIKINGS''  US 

"  She  cannot  proceed  on  her  way,"  said  the  chief- 
tain, decisively,  "  she  is  my  prisoner." 

Gunbjor,  who  had  been  frightened  out  of  her  wits 
by  the  small  red-  and  blue-cloaked  men,  swarming 
among  the  stones,  taking  them  to  be  trolds  or 
fairies,  now  gradually  recovered  her  senses.  She 
recognized  in  Erling  the  Lop-Sided  the  well-known 
features  of  the  parson's  son;  and  as  soon  as  she  had 
made  this  discovery  she  had  no  great  difficulty  in 
identifying  the  rest.  "  Never  you  fear,  pet,"  she 
said  to  the  child  in  her  lap,  "  these  be  bad  boys  as 
want  to  frighten  us.  I'll  give  them  a  switching  if 
they  don't  look  out." 

"  The  Princess  Kunigunde  is  my  prisoner  until  it 
please  hernoble  father  to  ransom  her  for  ten  pounds 
of  silver,"  repeated  Wolf-in-the-Temple,  putting  his 
arm  about  little  Maggie's  waist  and  trying  to  lift 
her  from  the  saddle. 

"  You  keep  yer  hands  off  the  child,  or  I'll  give 
you    ten    pounds    of    thrashing,"    cried    Gunbjor, 

angrily. 

"  She  shall  be  treated  with  the  respect  due  to  her 
rank,"  Wolf-in-the-Temple  proceeded,  loftily.  "  I 
give  King  Bjorn  the  Victorious  three  moons  in 
which  to  bring  me  the  ransom." 

''And  ril  give  you  three  boxes  on  the  ear,  and  a 
cut  with  my  whip,  into  the  bargain,  if  you  don't  let 
the  horse  alone,  and  take  yer  hands  off  the  child." 

"  Vikings  !  "  cried  the  chief,  "  lay  hands  on  her  ! 
8 


1 1 4  BOYHOOD  IN  NOR WA  Y 

Tear  her  from  the  saddle  !  She  has  defied  us  !  She 
deserves  no  mercy." 

With  a  tremendous  yell  the  boys  rushed  forward, 
brandishing  their  swords  above  their  heads,  and 
pulled  Gunbjor  from  the  saddle.  But  she  held  on 
to  her  charge  with  a  vigorous  clutch,  and  as  soon  as 
her  feet  touched  the  ground  she  began  with  her  dis- 
engaged hand  to  lay  about  her,  with  her  whip,  in  a 
way  that  proved  extremely  unpleasant.  Wolf-in- 
the-Temple,  against  whom  her  assault  was  especially 
directed,  received  some  bad  cuts  across  his  face,  and 
Ironbeard  was  driven  backward  into  the  ford,  where 
he  fell,  full  length,  and  rose  dripping  wet  and  morti- 
fied. Thore  the  Hound  got  a  thump  in  his  head 
from  Gunbjor's  stalwart  elbows,  and  Skull-Splitter, 
who  had  more  courage  than  discretion,  was  pitched 
into  the  water  with  no  more  ceremony  than  if  he 
had  been  a  superfluous  kitten.  The  fact  was — I  can- 
not disGfuise  it — within  five  minutes  the  whole  val- 
iant  band  of  the  Sons  of  the  Vikings  were  routed 
by  that  terrible  switch,  wielded  by  the  intrepid 
Gunbjor.  When  the  last  of  her  foes  had  bitten  the 
dust,  she  calmly  remounted  her  pony,  and  with  the 
Deacon's  Maggie  in  her  lap  rode,  at  a  leisurely  pace, 
across  the  ford. 

"  Good-by,  lads,"  she  said,  nodding  her  head  at 
them  over  her  shoulder  ;  "  ye  needn't  be  afraid.  I 
won't  tell  on  you." 


''THE   SONS   OF   THE    VIKINGS''  11$ 


IV. 

To  have  been  routed  by  a  woman  was  a  terrible 
humiliation  to  the  valiant  Sons  of  the  Vikings. 
They  were  silent  and  moody  during  the  evening, 
and  sat  staring  into  the  big  bonfire  on  the  j(^/rr  green 
with  stern  and  melancholy  features.  They  had 
suffered  defeat  in  battle,  and  it  behooved  them  to 
avenge  it.  About  nine  o'clock  they  retired  into  their 
bunks  in  the  log  cabin,  but  no  sooner  was  Brumle- 
Knute's  rhythmic  snoring  perceived  than  Wolf-in- 
the-Temple  put  his  head  out  and  called  to  his  com- 
rades to  meet  him  in  front  of  the  house  for  a  coun- 
cil of  war.  Instantly  they  scrambled  out  of  their 
alcoves,  pulled  on  their  coats  and  trousers ;  and  noise- 
lessly stole  out  into  the  night.  The  sun  was  yet 
visible,  but  a  red  veil  of  fiery  mist  was  drawn  across 
his  face  ;  and  a  magic  air  of  fairy-tales  and  strange 
unreality  was  diffused  over  mountains,  plains  and 
lakes.  The  river  wound  like  a  huge,  blood-red  ser- 
pent through  the  mountain  pastures,  and  the  snow- 
hooded  peaks  blazed  with  fiery  splendor. 

The  boys  were  quite  stunned  at  the  sight  of  such 
magnificence,  and  stood  for  some  minutes  gazing  at 
the  landscape,  before  giving  heed  to  the  summons 
of  the  chief. 

"  Comrades,"  said  Wolf-in-the-Temple,  solemnly, 
"  what  is  life  without  honor  ?  " 


Il6  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

There  was  not  a  soul  present  who  could  answer 
that  conundrum,  and  after  a  fitting  pause  the  chief 
was  forced  to  answer  it  himself. 

"  Life  without  honor,  comrades,"  he  said,  severely, 
"  life — without  honor  is — nothing." 

"  Hear,  hear  !  "  cried  Ironbeard  ;  "  good  for  you, 
old  man !  " 

"  Silence  !  "  thundered  Wolf-in-the-Temple,  "  I 
must  beg  the  gentlemen  to  observe  the  proprieties." 

This  tremendous  phrase  rarely  failed  to  restore 
order,  and  the  flippant  Ironbeard  was  duly  rebuked 
by  the  glances  of  displeasure  which  met  him  on  all 
sides.  But  in  the  meanwhile  the  chief  had  lost  the 
thread  of  his  speech  and  could  not  recover  it. 
"  Vikings,"  he  resumed,  clearing  his  throat  vehe- 
mently, "  we  have  been — that  is  to  say — we  have 
sustained " 

"  A  thrashing,"  supplied  the  innocent  Skull- 
Splitter. 

But  the  awful  stare  which  was  fixed  upon  him 
convinced  him  that  he  had  made  a  mistake ;  and  he 
shrunk  into  an  abashed  silence.  *'  We  must  do  some- 
thing to  retrieve  our  honor,"  continued  the  chief, 
earnestly  ;  "  we  must — take  steps — to — to  get  upon 
our  legs  again,"  he  finished,  blushing  with  embar- 
rassment. 

"  I  would  suggest  that  we  get  upon  our  legs  first, 
and  take  the  steps  afterward,"  remarked  the  flippant 
Ironbeard,  with  a  sly  wink  at  Thore  the  Hound. 


'''THE   SONS   OF   THE    VIKINGS''  11/ 

The  chief  held  it  to  be  beneath  his  dignity  to  no- 
tice this  interruption,  and  after  having  gazed  for 
a  while  in  silence  at  the  blood-red  mountain  peaks, 
he  continued,  more  at  his  ease  : 

"  1  propose,  comrades,  that  we  go  on  a  bear  hunt. 
Then,  when  we  return  with  a  bear-skin  or  two,  our 
honor  will  be  all  right ;  no  one  will  dare  laugh  at 
us.  The  brave  boy-hunters  will  be  the  admiration 
and  pride  of  the  whole  valley." 

"  But  Brummle-Knute,"  observed  the  Skull- 
Splitter  ;  "  do  you  think  he  will  allow  us  to  go  bear- 
hunting  ?  " 

"  What  do  we  care  whether  he  allows  us  or  not  ?  " 
cried  Wolf-in-the-Temple,  scornfully ;  "  he  sleeps 
like  a  log ;  and  I  propose  that  we  tie  his  hands  and 
feet  before  we  start." 

This  suggestion  met  with  enthusiastic  approval, 
and  all  the  boys  laughed  heartily  at  the  idea  of 
Brumle-Knute  waking  up  and  finding  himself  tied 
with  ropes,  like  a  calf  that  is  carried  to  market. 

"  Now,  comrades,"  commanded  the  chief,  with  a 
flourish  of  his  sword,  "  get  to  bed  quickly.  I'll  call 
you  at  four  o'clock  ;  we'll  then  start  to  chase  the 
monarch  of  the  mountains." 

The  Sons  of  the  Vikings  scrambled  into  their 
bunks  with  great  despatch  ;  and  though  their  beds 
consisted  of  pine  twigs,  covered  with  a  coarse  sheet, 
and  a  bag  of  straw  for  a  pillow,  they  fell  asleep  with- 
out rocking,  and  slept  more  soundly  than   if  they 


1 1 8  BOYHOOD   IN-  NOR WA  V 

had  rested  on  silken  bolsters  filled  with  eiderdown. 
Wolf-in-the-Temple  was  as  good  as  his  word,  and 
waked  them  promptly  at  four  o'clock  ;  and  their  first 
task,  after  having  filled  their  knapsacks  with  provi- 
sions, was  to  tie  Brumle-Knute's  hands  and  feet  with 
the  most  cunning  slip  -  knots,  which  would  tight- 
en more,  the  more  he  struggled  to  unloose  them. 
Ironbeard,  who  had  served  a  year  before  the  mast, 
was  the  contriver  of  this  daring  enterprise  ;  and  he 
did  it  so  cleverly  that  Brumle-Knute  never  suspect- 
ed that  his  liberty  was  being  interfered  with.  He 
snorted  a  little  and  rubbed  imaginary  cobwebs  from 
his  face ;  but  soon  lapsed  again  into  a  deep,  snoring 
unconsciousness. 

The  faces  of  the  Sons  of  the  Vikings  grew  very 
serious  as  they  started  out  on  this  dangerous  expedi- 
tion. There  was  more  than  one  of  them  who  would 
not  have  objected  to  remaining  at  home,  but  who 
feared  to  incur  the  charge  of  cowardice  if  he  opposed 
the  wishes  of  the  rest.  Wolf-in-the-Temple  walked 
at  the  head  of  the  column,  as  they  hastened  with 
stealthy  tread  out  of  the  sc^Ur  inclosure,  and  steered 
their  course  toward  the  dense  pine  forest,  the  tops 
of  which  were  visible  toward  the  east,  where  the 
mountain  sloped  toward  the  valley.  He  carried  his 
fowling-piece,  loaded  with  shot,  in  his  right  hand, 
and  a  powder-horn  and  other  equipments  for  the 
chase  were  flung  across  his  shoulder.  Erlinef  the 
Lop-Sided  was  similarly  armed,  and  Ironbeard,  glo- 


''THE   SONS   OF   THE    VIKINGS''  IIQ 

rying  in  a  real  sword,  unsheathed  it  every  minute 
and  let  it  flash  in  the  sun.  It  was  a  great  consola- 
tion to  the  rest  of  the  Vikings  to  see  these  for- 
midable weapons ;  for  they  were  not  wise  enough 
to  know  that  grown-up  bears  are  not  killed  with 
shot,  and  that  a  fowling-piece  is  a  good  deal  more 
dangerous  than  no  weapon  at  all,  in  the  hands  of 
an  inexperienced  hunter. 

The  sun,  who  had  exchanged  his  flaming  robe  de 
niiit  for  the  rosy  colors  of  morning,  was  now  shoot- 
ing his  bright  shafts  of  light  across  the  mountain 
plain,  and  cheering  the  hearts  of  the  Sons  of  the 
Vikings.  The  air  was  fresh  and  cool ;  and  it  seemed 
a  luxury  to  breathe  it.  It  entered  the  lungs  in  a 
pure,  vivifying  stream  like  an  elixir  of  life,  and  sent 
the  blood  dancing  through  the  veins.  It  was  im- 
possible to  mope  in  such  air ;  and  Ironbeard  inter- 
preted the  general  mood  when  he  struck  up  the 
tune : 

**  We  wander  with  joy  on  the  far  mountain  path, 
We  follow  the  star  that  will  guide  us  ;  " 

but  before  he  had  finished  the  third  verse,  it  occur- 
red to  the  chief  that  they  were  bear-hunters,  and 
that  it  was  very  unsportsmanlike  behavior  to  sing 
on  the  chase.  For  all  that  they  were  all  very  jolly, 
throbbing  with  excitement  at  the  thought  of  the 
adventures  which  they  were  about  to  encounter ; 
and  concealing  a  latent  spark  of  fear  under  an  excess 


120  BOYHOOD   IN  NORWAY 

of  bravado.  At  the  end  of  an  hour's  march  they 
had  reached  the  pine  forest ;  and  as  they  were  all 
ravenously  hungry  they  sat  down  upon  the  stones, 
where  a  clear  mountain  brook  ran  down  the  slope, 
and  unpacked  their  provisions.  Wolf-in-the-Temple 
had  just  helped  himself,  in  old  Norse  fashion,  to  a 
slice  of  smoked  ham,  having  slashed  a  piece  off  at 
random  with  his  knife,  when  Erling  the  Lop-Sided 
observed  that  that  ham  had  a  very  curious  odor. 
Everyone  had  to  test  its  smell ;  and  they  all  agreed 
that  it  did  have  a  singular  flavor,  though  its  taste 
was  irreproachable. 

"  It  smells  like  a  menagerie,"  said  the  Skull- 
Splitter,  as  he  handed  it  to  Thore  the  Hound. 

"  But  the  bread  and  the  biscuit  smell  just  the 
same,"  said  Thore  the  Hound  ;  "  in  fact,  it  is  the  air 
that  smells  like  a  menagerie." 

"  Boys,"  cried  Wolf-in-the-Temple,  "  do  you  see 
that  track  in  the  mud  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  it  is  the  track  of  a  barefooted  man,"  sug- 
gested the  innocent  Skull-Splitter. 

Ironbeard  and  Erling  the  Lop-Sided  flung  them- 
selves down  among  the  stones  and  investigated  the 
tracks ;  and  they  were  no  longer  in  doubt  as  to 
where  the  pungent  wild  odor  came  from,  which  they 
had  attributed  to  the  ham. 

"  Boys,"  said  Erling,  looking  up  with  an  excited 
face,  "a  she-bear  with  one  or  two  cubs  has  been 
here  within  a  few  minutes." 


''THE   SONS   OF   THE    VIKINGS''  121 

"  This  is  her  drinking-place,"  said  Ironbeard : 
"  the  tracks  are  many  and  well-worn  ;  if  she  hasn't 
been  here  this  morning,  she  is  sure  to  come  before 
long." 

"  We  are  in  luck  indeed,"  Wolf-in-the-Temple 
observed,  coolly ;  "  we  needn't  go  far  for  our  bear. 
He  will  be  coming  for  us." 

At  that  moment  the  note  of  an  Alpine  horn  was 
heard ;  but  it  was  impossible  to  determine  how  far 
it  was  away ;  for  the  echo  took  up  the  note  and 
flung  it  back  and  forth  with  clear  and  strong  re- 
verberations from  mountain  to  mountain. 

"  It  is  Brumle-Knute  who  is  calling  us,"  said 
Thore  the  Hound.  "  The  dairymaid  must  have  re- 
leased him.     Shall  we  answer  ?" 

"  Never,"  cried  the  chief,  proudly ;  "  I  forbid  you 
to  answer.  Here  we  have  our  heroic  deed  in  sisht, 
and  I  want  no  one  to  spoil  it.  If  there  is  a  coward 
among  us,  let  him  take  to  his  heels ;  no  one  shall 
detain  him." 

There  were  perhaps  several  who  would  have  liked 
to  accept  the  invitation  ;  but  no  one  did.  Skull- 
Splitter,  by  way  of  diversion,  plumped  backward 
into  the  brook,  and  sat  down  in  the  cool  pool  up  to 
his  waist.  But  nobody  laughed  at  his  mishap  ;  be- 
cause they  had  their  minds  full  of  more  serious 
thoughts.  Wolf-in-the-Temple,  who  had  climbed 
up  on  a  big  moss-grown  boulder,  stood,  gun  in  hand, 
and  peered  in  among  the  bushes. 


122  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

"  Boys,"  he  whispered,  "  drop  down  on  your 
bellies — quick." 

All,  crowding  behind  a  rock,  obeyed,  pushing 
themselves  into  position  with  hands  and  feet.  With 
wildly  beating  hearts  the  Vikings  gazed  up  among 
the  gray  wilderness  of  stone  and  underbrush,  and 
first  one,  then  another,  caught  sight  of  something 
brown  and  hairy  that  came  toddling  down  toward 
them,  now  rolling  like  a  ball  of  yarn,  now  turning  a 
somersault,  and  now  again  pegging  industriously 
along  on  four  clumsy  paws.  It  was  the  prettiest 
little  bear  cub  that  ever  woke  on  its  mossy  lair  in 
the  woods.  Now  it  came  shuffling  down  in  a  boozy 
way  to  take  its  morning  bath.  It  seemed  but  half 
awake;  and  Skull- Splitter  imagined  that  it  was  a 
trifle  cross,  because  its  mother  had  waked  it  too 
early.  Evidently  it  had  made  no  toilet  as  yet,  for 
bits  of  moss  were  sticking  in  its  hair ;  and  it  yawned 
once  or  twice,  and  shook  its  head  disgustedly. 
Skull-Splitter  knew  so  well  that  feeling  and  could 
sympathize  with  the  poor  young  cub.  But  VVolf- 
in-the-Temple,  who  watched  it  no  less  intently,  was 
filled  with  quite  different  emotions.  Here  was  his 
heroic  deed,  for  which  he  had  hungered  so  long. 
To  shoot  a  bear — that  was  a  deed  worthy  of  a  Norse- 
man. One  step  more — then  two — and  then — up 
rose  the  bear  cub  on  its  hind  legs  and  rubbed  its 
eyes  with  its  paws.  Now  he  had  a  clean  shot — 
now  or  never;  and  pulling  the  trigger  Wolf-in-the- 


'^TIIE   SONS    OF   THE    VIKINGS"  1 23 

Temple  blazed  away  and  sent  a  handful  of  shot  into 
the  carcass  of  the  poor  little  bear.  Up  jumped  all 
the  Sons  of  the  Vikings  from  behind  their  stones, 
and,  with  a  shout  of  triumph,  ran  up  the  path  to 
where  the  cub  was  lying.  It  had  rolled  itself  up 
into  a  brown  ball,  and  whimpered  like  a  child  in 
pain.  But  at  that  very  moment  there  came  an  omi- 
nous growl  out  of  the  underbrush,  and  a  crackling 
and  creaking  of  branches  was  heard  which  made  the 
hearts  of  the  boys  stand  still. 

"Erling,"  cried  Wolf-in-the-Temple,  "hand  me 
your  gun,  and  load  mine  for  me  as  quick  as  you 
can." 

The  words  were  scarcely  out  of  his  mouth  when 
the  head  of  a  big  brown  she-bear  became  visible 
among  the  bushes.  She  paused  in  the  path,  where 
her  cub  was  lying,  turned  him  over  with  her  paw, 
licked  his  face,  grumbled  with  a  low  soothing  tone, 
snuffed  him  all  over  and  rubbed  her  nose  against  his 
snout.  But  unwarily  she  must  have  touched  some 
sore  spot ;  for  the  cub  gave  a  sharp  yelp  of  pain  and 
writhed  and  whimpered  as  he  looked  up  into  his 
mother's  eyes,  clumsily  returning  her  caresses.  The 
boys,  half  emerged  from  their  hiding-places,  stood 
watchincr  this  demonstration  of  affection  not  with- 
out  sympathy  ;  and  Skull-Splittter,  for  one,  heartily 
wished  that  the  chief  had  not  wounded  the  little 
bear.  Quite  ignorant  as  he  was  of  the  nature  of 
bears,  he  allowed  his  compassion  to  get  the  better  of 


124  BOYHOOD   IN  NORWAY 

his  judgment.      It  seemed  such  a  pity  that  the  poor 
little  beast  should  lie  there  and  suffer  with  one  eye 
put  out  and  forty  or  fifty  bits  of  lead   distributed 
through  its  body.    It  would  be  much  more  merciful 
to  put  it  out  of  its  misery  altogether.     And  accord- 
ingly when  Erling  the  Lop-Sided  handed  him  his 
gun  to  pass  on   to  the  chief,  Skull-Splitter  started 
forward,  flung  the  gun  to  his  cheek,  and  blazed  away 
at  the  little  bear  once  more,  entirely  heedless  of  con- 
sequences.     It  was  a  random,  unskilful  shot,  which 
was  about  equally  shared  by  the  cub  and  its  mother. 
And  the  latter  was  not  in  a  mood  to  be  trifled  with. 
With  an   angry  roar  she  rose  on  her  hind  legs  and 
advanced  against  the  unhappy  Skull-Splitter  with 
two  uplifted  paws.     In  another  moment  she  would 
give  him  one  of  her  vigorous  "  left-handers,"  which 
would  probably  pacify  him  forever.    Ironbeard  gave 
a  scream  of  terror  and  Thore  the  Hound  broke  down 
an  alder-sapling  in  his  excitement.     But  Wolf-in- 
the-Temple,  remembering  that  he  had  sworn  foster- 
brotherhood  with  this  brave  and  foolish    little  lad, 
thought  that  now  was  the  time  to  show  his  heroism. 
Here  it  was  no  longer  play,  but  dead  earnest.  Down 
he  leaped  from  his  rock,  and  just  as  the  she-bear 
was  within  a  foot  of  the  Skull-Splitter,  he  dealt  her  a 
blow  in  the  head  with  the  butt  end  of  his  gun  which 
made  the  sparks  dance  before  her  eyes.    She  turned 
suddenly  toward  her  new  assailant,  growling  savage- 
ly, and  scratched  her  ear  with  her  paw.    And  Skull- 


"-'THE   SONS   OF   THE    VIKINGS''  12$ 

Splitter  who  had  slipped  on  the  pine-needles  and 
fallen,  scrambled  to  his  feet  again,  leaving  his  gun 
on  the  ground,  and  with  a  few  aimless  steps  tumbled 
once  more  into  the  brook.  Ironbeard,  seeing  tliat 
he  was  being  outdone  by  his  chief,  was  quick  to  seize 
the  gun,  and  rushing  forward  dealt  the  she-bear  an- 
other blow,  which,  instead  of  disabling  her,  only  ex- 
asperated her  further.  She  glared  with  her  small 
bloodshot  eyes  now  at  the  one,  now  at  the  other 
boy,  as  if  in  doubt  which  she  would  tackle  first.  It 
was  an  awful  moment ;  one  or  the  other  might  have 
saved  himself  by  flight,  but  each  was  determined  to 
stand  his  ground.  Vikings  could  die,  but  never 
flee.  With  a  furious  growl  the  she-bear  started 
toward  her  last  assailant,  lifting  her  terrible  paw. 
Ironbeard  backed  a  few  steps,  pointing  his  gun 
before  him;  and  with  benumbing  force  the  paw 
descended  upon  the  gun-barrel,  striking  it  out  of  his 
hands. 

It  seemed  all  of  a  sudden  to  the  boy  as  if  his  arms 
were  asleep  up  to  the  shoulders  ;  he  had  a  stinging 
sensation  in  his  flesh  and  a  humming  in  his  ears, 
which  made  him  fear  that  his  last  hour  had  come. 
If  the  bear  renewed  the  attack  now  he  was  utterly 
defenceless.  He  was  not  exactly  afraid,  but  he  was 
numb  all  over.  It  seemed  to  matter  little  what 
became  of  him. 

But  now  a  strange  thing  happened.  To  his  un- 
utterable astonishment    he  saw  the  she-bear    drop 


126  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

down  on  all-fours  and  vent  her  rage  on  the  gun, 
which,  in  a  trice,  was  bent  and  broken  into  a  dozen 
fragments.  But  in  this  diversion  she  was  interrupted 
by  Wolf-in-the-Temple,  who  hammered  away  again 
at  her  head  with  the  heavy  end  of  his  weapon. 
Again  she  rose,  and  presented  two  rows  of  white 
teeth  which  looked  as  if  they  meant  business.  It 
was  the  chief's  turn  now  to  meet  his  fate  ;  and  it 
was  the  more  serious  because  his  helper  was  disarmed 
and  could  give  him  no  assistance.  With  a  wildly 
thumping  heart  he  raised  the  butt  end  of  his  gun 
and  dashed  forward,  when  as  by  a  miracle  a  shot 
was  heard — a  sharp,  loud  shot  that  rumbled  away 
with  manifold  reverberations  among  the  mountains. 
In  the  same  instant  the  huge  brown  bear  tumbled 
forward,  rolled  over,  with  a  gasping  growl,  and  was 
dead. 

"  O  Brumle-Knute  !  Brumle-Knute  !  "  yelled  the 
boys  in  joyous  chorus,  as  they  saw  their  rescuer 
coming  forward  from  behind  the  rocks,  "  how  did 
you  find  us  ?" 

"  I  heard  yer  shots  and  I  saw  yer  tracks,"  said 
Brumle-Knute,  dryly;  "  but  when  ye  go  bear-hunt- 
ing another  time  ye  had  better  load  with  bullets 
instead  of  bird-shot." 

"  But,  Brumle-Knute,  we  only  wanted  to  shoot 
the  little  bear,"  protested  Wolf-in-the-Temple. 

"  That  may  be,"  Brumle-Knute  replied  ;  "but  the 
big  bears,  they  are  a  curiously   unreasonable    lot ; 


>         3      3,''' 


•    )-  J         3  3          1 

.       '  5'     5  3       ,3 

^          ^     33'  3    ',3  3  3,3 

'  3   '      3      '3  3         «  3  3          3 


''THE   SONS    OF   THE    VIKINGS"  12/ 

they  are  apt  to  get  mad  when  you  fire  at  their  little 
ones.  Next  time  you  must  recollect  to  take  the 
bi":  bear  into  account." 

I  need  not  tell  you  that  the  Sons  of  the  Vikings 
became  great  heroes  when  the  rumor  of  their  bear 
hunt  was  noised  abroad  through  the  valley.  But, 
for  all  that,  they  determined  to  disband  their 
brotherhood.  Wolf-in-the-Temple  expressed  the 
sentiment  of  all  when,  at  their  last  meeting,  he 
made  a  speech,  in  which  these  words  occurred  : 

"Brothers,  the  world  isn't  quite  the  same  now  as 
it  was  in  the  days  when  our  Viking  forefathers 
spread  the  terror  of  their  name  through  the  South. 
We  are  not  so  strong  as  they  were,  nor  so  hardy. 
When  we  mingle  blood,  we  have  to  send  for  a 
surgeon.  If  we  steal  princesses  we  may  go  to  jail 
for  it — or — or — well — never  mind — what  else  may 
happen.  Heroism  isn't  appreciated  as  once  it  was 
in  this  country;  and  I,  for  one,  won't  try  to  be 
a  hero  any  more.  I  resign  my  chieftainship  now, 
when  I  can  do  it  with  credit.  Let  us  all  make  our 
bows  of  adieu  as  bear  hunters;  and  if  we  don't  do 
anything  more  in  the  heroic  line  it  is  not  because 
we  can't,  but  because  we  won't." 


PAUL  JESPERSEN'S  MASQUERADE 

There  was  great  excitement  in  the  little  Norse 
town,  Bumlebro,  because  there  was  going  to  be  a 
masquerade.  Everybody  was  busy  inventing  the 
character  which  he  was  to  represent,  and  the  cos- 
tume in  which  he  was  to  represent  it. 

Miss  Amelia  Norbeck,  the  apothecary's  daughter, 
had  intended  to  be  Marie  Antoinette^  but  had  to 
give  it  up  because  the  silk  stockings  were  too  dear, 
although  she  had  already  procured  the  beauty- 
patches  and  the  powdered  wig. 

Miss  Arctander,  the  judge's  daughter,  was  to  be 
Nighty  in  black  tulle,  spangled  with  silver  stars,  and 
Miss  Hanna  Broby  was  to  be  Morning^  in  white 
tulle  and  pink  roses. 

There  had  never  been  a  masquerade  in  Bumlebro, 
and  there  would  not  have  been  one  now,  if  it  had 
not  been  for  the  enterprise  of  young  Arctander  and 
young  Norbeck,  who  had  just  returned  from  the 
military  academy  in  the  capital,  and  were  anxious 
to  exhibit  themselves  to  the  young  girls  in  their 
glory. 

Of  course,  they  could  not  afford  to  be  exclusive, 


PAUL   JESPERSEN'S  MASQUERADE  1 29 

for  there  were  but  twenty  or  thirty  families  in  the 
town  that  laid  any  claims  to  gentility,  and  they  had 
all  to  be  invited  in  order  to  fill  the  hall  and  pay  the 
bills.  Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  Paul  Jespersen, 
the  book-keeper  in  the  fish-exporting  firm  of  Broby 
&  Larsen,  received  a  card,  although,  to  be  sure, 
there  had  been  a  long  debate  in  the  committee  as 
to  where  the  line  should  be  drawn. 

Paul  Jespersen  was  uncommonly  elated  when 
he  read  the  invitation,  which  was  written  on  a  gilt- 
edged  card,  requesting  the  pleasure  of  Mr.  Jesper- 
sen's  company  at  a  bal  masque  Tuesday,  January  3d, 
in  the  Association  Hall. 

"  The  pleasure  of  his  company  !  " 

Think  of  it  !  He  felt  so  flattered  that  he  blushed 
to  the  tips  of  his  ears.  It  must  have  been  Miss 
Clara  Broby  who  had  induced  them  to  be  so  polite 
to  him,  for  those  insolent  cadets,  who  only  nodded 
patronizingly  to  him  in  response  to  his  deferential 
greeting,  would  never  have  asked  for  "  the  pleasure 
of  his  company." 

Having  satisfied  himself  on  this  point,  Paul  went 
to  call  upon  Miss  Clara  in  the  evening,  in  order  to 
pay  her  some  compliment  and  consult  her  in  regard 
to  his  costume ;  but  Miss  Clara,  as  it  happened,  was 
much  more  interested  in  her  own  costume  than  in 
that  of  Mr.  Jespersen,  and  offered  no  useful  sugges- 
tions. 

"  What  character  would  you  advise  me  to  select, 
9 


130  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

Mr.  Jespersen  ?"  she  inquired,  sweetly.  "  My  sister 
Hanna,  you  know,  is  going  to  be  Mornings  so  I  can't 
be  that,  and  it  seems  to  me  Morning  would  have 
suited  me  just  lovely." 

"  Go  as  Beauty^'  suggested  Mr.  Jespersen,  blush- 
ing at  the  thought  of  his  audacity. 

"  So  I  will,  Mr.  Jespersen,"  she  answered,  laugh- 
ing, "  if  you  will  go  as  the  Beast''' 

Paul,  being  a  simple-hearted  fellow,  failed  to  see 
any  sarcasm  in  this,  but  interpreted  it  rather  as  a 
hint  that  Miss  Clara  desired  his  escort,  as  Beauty^ 
of  course,  only  would  be  recognizable  in  her  proper 
character  by  the  presence  of  the  Beast. 

"  I  shall  be  delighted,  Miss  Clara,"  he  said,  beam- 
ing with  pleasure.  "  If  you  will  be  my  Beauty,  I'll 
be  your  Beast'' 

Miss  Clara  did  not  know  exactly  how  to  take  this, 
and  was  rather  absent-minded  during  the  rest  of  the 
interview.  She  had  been  chaffing  Mr.  Jespersen, 
of  course,  but  she  did  not  wish  to  be  absolutely  rude 
to  him,  because  he  was  her  father's  employee,  and, 
as  she  often  heard  her  father  say,  a  very  valuable 
and  trustworthy  young  man. 

When  Paul  got  home  he  began  at  once  to  ponder 
upon  his  character  as  Beast,  and  particularly  as  Miss 
Clara's  Beast.  It  occurred  to  him  that  his  uncle, 
the  furrier,  had  an  enormous  bear-skin,  with  head, 
eyes,  claws,  and  all  that  was  necessary,  and  without 
delay  he  went  to  try  it  on. 


PAUL   JESPERSEN'S  MASQUERADE  I3I 

His  uncle,  feeling  that  this  event  was  somehow  to 
redound  to  the  credit  of  the  family,  agreed  to  make 
the  necessary  alterations  at  a  trifling  cost,  and  when 
the  night  of  the  masquerade  arrived,  Paul  was  so 
startled  at  his  appearance  that  he  would  have  run 
away  from  himself  if  such  a  thing  had  been  pos- 
sible. He  had  never  imagined  that  he  would  make 
such  a  sucessful  Beast. 

By  an  ingenious  contrivance  with  a  string,  which 
he  pulled  with  his  hand,  he  was  able  to  move  his 
lower  jaw,  which,  with  its  red  tongue  and  terrible 
teeth,  presented  an  awful  appearance.  By  patching 
the  skin  a  little  behind,  his  head  was  made  to  fit 
comfortably  into  the  bear's  head,  and  his  mild  blue 
eyes  looked  out  of  the  holes  from  which  the  bear's 
eyes  had  been  removed.  The  skin  was  laced  with 
thin  leather  thongs  from  the  neck  down,  but  the 
long,  shaggy  fur  made  the  lacing  invisible. 

Paul  Jespersen  practised  ursine  behavior  before, 
the  looking-glass  for  about  half  an  hour.  Then, 
being  uncomfortably  warm,  he  started  down-stairs, 
and  determined  to  walk  to  the  Association  Hall. 
He  chuckled  to  himself  at  the  thought  of  the  sen- 
sation he  would  make,  if  he  should  happen  to  meet 
anybody  on  the  road. 

Having  never  attended  a  masquerade  before,  he 
did  not  know  that  dressing-rooms  were  provided  for 
the  maskers,  and,  being  averse  to  needless  expendi- 
ture, he  would  as  soon  have  thought  of  flying  as  of 


132  BOYHOOD   IN  NOR WA  Y 

taking  a  carriage.  There  was,  in  fact,  but  one  car- 
riage on  runners  in  the  town,  and  that  was  ah'eady 
engaged  by  half  a  dozen  parties. 

The  moon  was  shining  faintly  upon  the  snow, 
and  there  was  a  sharp  frost  in  the  air  when  Paul 
Jespersen  put  his  hairy  head  out  of  the  street-door 
and  reconnoitred  the  territory. 

There  was  not  a  soul  to  be  seen,  except  an  old 
beggar  woman  who  was  hobbling  along,  supporting 
herself  with  two  sticks.  Paul  darted,  as  quickly  as 
his  unwieldly  bulk  would  allow,  into  the  middle  of 
the  street.  He  enjoyed  intensely  the  fun  of  walk- 
ing abroad  in  such  a  monstrous  guise.  He  contem- 
plated with  boyish  satisfaction  his  shadow  which 
stretched,  long  and  black  and  horrible,  across  the 
snow. 

It  was  a  bit  slippery,  and  he  had  to  manoeuvre 
carefully  in  order  to  keep  right  side  up.  Presently 
he  caught  up  with  the  beggar  woman. 

"  Good-evening !  "  he  said. 

The  old  woman  turned  about,  stared  at  him  hor- 
ror-stricken ;  then,  as  soon  as  she  had  collected  her 
senses,  took  to  her  heels,  yelling  at  the  top  of  her 
voice.  A  big  mastiff,  who  had  just  been  let  loose 
for  the  night,  began  to  bark  angrily  in  a  back  yard, 
and  a  dozen  comrades  responded  from  other  yards, 
and  came  bounding  into  the  street. 

"  Hello  !  "  thought  Paul  Jespersen.  "  Now  look 
out  for  trouble." 


PAUL   JESPERSEN'S   MASQUERADE  133 

He  felt  anything  but  hilarious  when  he  saw  the 
pack  of  angry  dogs  dancing  and  leaping  about  him, 
barking  in  a  wildly  discordant  chorus. 

"  Why,  Hector,  you  fool,  don't  you  know  me  ?  " 
he  said,  coaxingly,  to  the  judge's  mastiff.  "And 
you,  Sultan,  old  man  !  You  ought  to  be  ashamed 
of  yourself !  Here,  Caro,  that's  a  good  fellow ! 
Come,  now,  don't  excite  yourself  1  " 

But  Hector,  Sultan,  and  Caro  were  all  proof 
aeainst  such  blandishments,  and  as  for  Bismarck,  the 
apothecary's  collie,  he  grew  every  moment  more 
furious,  and  showed  his  teeth  in  a  very  uncomforta- 
ble fashion. 

To  defend  one's  self  was  not  to  be  thought  of,  for 
what  defence  is  possible  to  a  sham  bear  against  a 
dozen  genuine  dogs  ?  Paul  could  use  neither  his 
teeth  nor  his  claws  to  any  purpose,  while  the  dogs 
could  use  theirs,  as  he  presently  discovered,  with 
excellent  effect. 

He  had  just  concluded  to  seek  safety  in  flight, 
when  suddenly  he  felt  a  bite  in  his  left  calf,  and  saw 
the  brute  Bismarck  tug  away  at  his  leg  as  if  it  had 
been  a  mutton-chop.  He  had  scarcely  recovered 
from  this  surprise  when  he  heard  a  sharp  report,  and 
a  bullet  whizzed  away  over  his  head,  after  having 
neatly  put  a  hole  through  the  right  ear.  Paul  con- 
cluded, with  reason,  that  things  were  getting  serious. 
If  he  could  only  get  hold  of  that  blockhead,  the 
iud'^e's  sroom,  who  was  violating  the  law  about  fire- 


134  BO  YHO OD  IN  NOR  WA  Y 

arms,  he  would  give  him  an  exhibition  in  athletics 
which  he  would  not  soon  forget;  but,  being  for  the 
moment  deprived  of  this  pleasure,  he  knew  of  noth- 
ing better  to  do  than  to  dodge  through  the  nearest 
street-door,  and  implore  the  protection  of  the  very 
first  individual  he  might  meet. 

It  so  happened  that  Paul  selected  the  house  of 
two  middle-aged  milliners  for  this  experiment. 

Jemina  and  Malla  Hansen  were  just  seated  at  the 
table  drinking  tea  with  their  one  constant  visitor, 
the  post-office  clerk,  Mathias,  when,  all  of  a  sudden, 
they  heard  a  tremendous  racket  in  the  hall,  and  the 
furious  barking  of  dogs. 

With  a  scream  of  fright,  the  two  old  maids 
jumped  up,  dropping  their  precious  tea-cups,  and 
old  Mathias,  who  had  tipped  his  chair  a  little  back- 
ward, lost  his  balance,  and  pointed  his  heels  toward 
the  ceiling.  Before  he  had  time  to  pick  himself  up 
the  door  was  burst  open  and  a  great  hairy  monster 
sprang  into  the  room. 

"  Mercy  upon  us ! "  cried  Jemina.  "  It  is  the  devil ! " 

But  now  came  the  worst  of  it  all.  The  bear  put 
his  paw  on  his  heart,  and  with  the  politest  bow  in 
the  world,  remarked  : 

"  Pardon  me,  ladies,  if  I  intrude." 

He  had  meant  to  say  more,  but  his  audience  had 
vanished  ;  only  the  flying  tails  of  Mathias's  coat 
were  seen,  as  he  slammed  the  door  on  them,  in  his 
precipitate  flight. 


PAUL  JESPERSEN'S  MASQUERADE  135 

"  Police !  police !  "  someone  shouted  out  of  the 
window  of  the  adjoining  room. 

Police !  Now,  with  all  due  respect  for  the  offi- 
cers of  the  law,  Paul  Jespersen  had  no  desire  to  meet 
them  at  the  present  moment.  To  be  hauled  up  at 
the  station-house  and  fined  for  street  disorder — 
nay,  perhaps  be  locked  up  for  the  night,  if,  as  was 
more  than  likely,  the  captain  of  police  was  at  the 
masquerade,  was  not  at  all  to  Paul's  taste.  Any- 
thing rather  than  that !  He  would  be  the  laughing- 
stock of  the  whole  town  if,  after  his  elaborate  ef- 
forts, he  were  to  pass  the  night  in  a  cell,  instead  of 
dancing  with  Miss  Clara  Broby. 

Hearing  the  cry  for  police  repeated,  Paul  looked 
about  him 'for  some  means  of  escape.  It  occurred 
to  him  that  he  had  seen  a  ladder  in  the  hall  leading 
up  to  the  loft.  There  he  could  easily  hide  himself 
until  the  crowd  had  dispersed. 

Without  further  reflection,  he  rushed  out  through 
the  door  by  which  he  had  entered,  climbed  the  lad- 
der, thrust  open  a  trap-door,  and,  to  his  astonish- 
ment, found  himself  under  the  wintry  sky. 

The  roof  sloped  steeply,  and  he  had  to  balance 
carefully  in  order  to  avoid  sliding  down  into  the 
midst  of  the  noisy  mob  of  dogs  and  street-boys 
who  were  laying  siege  to  the  door. 

With  the  utmost  caution  he  crawled  along  the 
roof-tree,  trembling  lest  he  should  be  discovered  by 
some  Ijnx-eyed  villain  in  the  throng  of  his  pursuers. 


136  BO  YHO OD   IN  NOR  WA  Y 

Happily,  the  broad  brick  chimney  afforded  him 
some  shelter,  of  which  he  was  quick  to  take  ad- 
vantage. Rolling  himself  up  into  the  smallest  pos- 
sible compass,  he  sat  for  a  long  time  crouching  be- 
hind the  chimney ;  while  the  police  were  rum- 
maging under  the  beds  and  in  the  closets  of  the 
house,  in  the  hope  of  finding  him. 

He  had,  of  course,  carefully  closed  the  trap-door 
by  which  he  had  reached  the  comparative  safety  of 
his  present  position  ;  and  he  could  not  help  chuck- 
ling to  himself  at  the  thought  of  having  outwitted 
the  ofificers  of  the  law. 

The  crowd  outside,  after  having  made  night  hide- 
ous by  their  whoops  and  yells,  began,  at  the  end  of 
an  hour,  to  grow  weary  ;  and  the  dogs  being  denied 
entrance  to  the  house,  concluded  that  they  had  no 
further  business  there,  and  slunk  off  to  their  re- 
spective kennels. 

The  people,  too,  scattered,  and  only  a  few  patient 
loiterers  hung  about  the  street  door,  hoping  for 
fresh  developments.  It  seemed  useless  to  Paul  to 
wait  until  these  provoking  fellows  should  take 
themselves  away.  They  were  obviously  prepared  to 
make  a  night  of  it,  and  time  was  no  object  to 
them. 

It  was  then  that  Paul,  in  his  despair,  resolved 
upon  a  daring  stratagem.  Mr.  Broby's  house  was 
in  the  same  block  as  that  of  the  Misses  Hansen, 
only   it   was  at  the  other  end  of  the  block.     By 


PAUL  JESPERSEN'S  MASQUERADE  137 

creeping  along  the  roof-trees  of  the  houses,  which, 
happily,  differed  but  slightly  in  height,  he  could 
reach  the  Broby  house,  where,  no  doubt.  Miss  Clara 
was  now  waiting  for  him,  full  of  impatience. 

He  did  not  deliberate  long  before  testing  the 
practicability  of  this  plan.  The  tanner  Thoresen 's 
house  was  reached  without  accident,  although  he 
barely  escaped  being  detected  by  a  small  boy  who 
was  amusing  himself  throwing  snow-balls  at  the 
chimney.  It  was  a  slow  and  wearisome  mode  of 
locomotion — pushing  himself  forward  on  his  belly ; 
but,  as  long  as  the  streets  were  deserted,  it  was  a 
pretty  safe  one. 

He  gave  a  start  whenever  he  heard  a  dog  bark  ; 
for  the  echoes  of  the  ear-splitting  concert  they  had 
given  him  were  yet  ringing  in  his  brain. 

It  was  no  joke  being  a  bear,  he  thought,  and  if  he 
had  suspected  that  it  was  such  a  serious  business,  he 
would  not  so  rashly  have  undertaken  it.  But  now 
there  was  no  way  of  getting  out  of  it ;  for  he  had 
nothing  on  but  his  underclothes  under  the  bear-skin. 

At  last  he  reached  the  Broby  house,  and  drew  a 
sigh  of  relief  at  the  thought  that  he  was  now  at  the 
end  of  his  journey. 

He  looked  about  him  for  a  trap-door  by  which  he 
could  descend  into  the  interior,  but  could  find  none. 
There  was  an  inch  of  snow  on  the  roof,  glazed  with 
frost  :  and  if  there  was  a  trap-door,  it  was  securely 
hidden. 


138  BO  YHO OD  IN  NOR  WA  V 

To  jump  or  slide  down  was  out  of  the  question, 
for  he  would,  in  that  case,  risk  breaking  his  neck. 
If  he  cried  for  help,  the  groom,  who  was  always 
ready  with  his  gun,  might  take  a  fancy  to  shoot  at 
him  ;  and  that  would  be  still  more  unpleasant.  It 
was  a  most  embarrassing  situation. 

Paul's  eyes  fell  upon  a  chimney ;  and  the  thought 
flashed  through  his  head  that  there  was  the  solution 
of  the  difficulty.  He  observed  that  no  smoke  was 
coming  out  of  it,  so  that  he  would  run  no  risk  of 
being  converted  into  smoked  ham  during  the 
descent. 

He  looked  down  through  the  long,  black  tunnel. 
It  was  a  great,  spacious,  old-fashioned  chimney,  and 
abundantly  wide  enough  for  his  purpose. 

A  pleasant  sound  of  laughter  and  merry  voices 
came  to  him  from  the  kitchen  below.  It  was  evi- 
dent the  girls  were  having  a  frolic.  So,  without 
further  ado,  Paul  Jespersen  stuffed  his  great  hairy 
bulk  into  the  chimney  and  proceeded  to  let  himself 
down. 

There  were  notches  and  iron  rings  in  the  brick 
wall,  evidently  put  there  for  the  convenience  of  the 
chimney-sweeps;  and  he  found  his  task  easier 
than  he  had  anticipated.  The  soot,  to  be  sure, 
blinded  his  eyes,  but  where  there  was  nothing  to  be 
seen,  that  was  no  serious  disadvantage. 

In  fact,  everything  was  going  as  smoothly  as  pos- 
sible, when  suddenly  he  heard  a  girl's  voice  cry  out : 


^c-^c 


PAUL   JESPRRSEN'S  MASQUERADE  139 

"  Gracious  goodness !    what    is   that   in   the   chim- 
ney ?  " 

"  Probably  the  chimney-sweep,"  a  man's  voice 
answered. 

"  Chimney-sweep  at  this  time  of  night !  " 

Paul,  bracing  himself  against  the  walls,  looked 
down  and  saw  a  cluster  of  anxious  faces  all  gazing 
up  toward  him.  A  candle  which  one  of  the  girls 
held  in  her  hand  showed  him  that  the  distance 
down  to  the  hearth  was  but  short ;  so,  to  make  an 
end  of  their  uncertainy,  he  dropped  himself  down — 
quietly,  as  he  thought,  but  by  the  force  of  his  fall 
blowing  the  ashes  about  in  all  directions. 

A  chorus  of  terrified  screams  greeted  him.  One 
girl  fainted,  one  leaped  up  on  a  table,  and  the  rest 
made  for  the  door. 

And  there  sat  poor  Paul,  in  the  ashes  on  the 
hearth,  utterly  bewildered  by  the  consternation  he 
had  occasioned.  He  picked  himself  up  by  and  by, 
rubbed  the  soot  out  of  his  eyes  with  the  backs  of  his 
paws,  and  crawled  out  upon  the  floor. 

He  had  just  managed  to  raise  himself  upon  his 
hind-legs,  when  an  awful  apparition  became  visi- 
ble in  the  door,  holding  a  candle.  It  was  now 
Paul's  turn  to  be  frightened.  The  person  who 
stood  before  him  bore  a  close  resemblance  to  the 

devil. 

"What  is  all  this  racket  about?"  he  cried,  in  a 
tone  of  authority. 


I40  BOYHOOD   liY  NORWAY 

Paul  felt  instantly  relieved,  for  the  voice  was  that 
of  his  revered  chief,  Mr.  Broby,  who,  he  now  recol- 
lected, was  to  figure  at  the  masquerade  as  MepJiis- 
topJiclcs.  Behind  him  peeped  forth  the  faces  of  his 
two  daughters,  one  as  Morjting  and  the  other  as 
Spring. 

"  May  I  ask  what  is  the  cause  of  this  unseemly 
noise  ?  "  repeated  Mr.  Broby,  advancing  to  the  mid- 
dle of  the  room.  The  lis^ht  of  his  candle  now  fell 
upon  the  huge  bear  whom,  after  a  slight  start,  he 
recognized  as  a  masker. 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Broby,"  said  Paul,  "  but  Miss 
Clara  did  me  the  honor " 

*'  Oh  yes,  papa,"  Miss  Clara  interrupted  him, 
stepping  forth  in  all  her  glory  of  tulle  and  flowers; 
"  it  is  Paul  Jespersen,  who  was  going  to  be  my 
Beast." 

"  And  it  is  you  who  have  frightened  my  servants 
half  out  of  their  wits,  Jespersen  ?  "  said  Mr.  Broby, 
laughing. 

"  He  tumbled  down  through  the  chimney,  sir," 
declared  the  cook,  who  had  half-recovered  from  her 
fright. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Broby,  with  another  laugh,  "  I 
admit  that  was  a  trifle  unconventional.  Next 
time  you  call,  Jespersen,  you  must  come  through 
the  door." 

He  thought  Jespersen  had  chosen  to  play  a  prac- 
tical  joke  on  the  servants,  and,  though   he  did  not 


PAUL   JESPERSEN'S  MASQUERADE  I4I 

c:::ictly  like  it,  he  was  in  no  mood  for  scolding. 
After  having  been  carefully  brushed  and  rolled  in 
the  snow,  Paul  offered  his  escort  to  Miss  Clara ; 
and  she  had  not  the  heart  to  tell  him  that  she  was 
not  at  all  Beauty,  but  Spring.  And  Paul  was  not 
enough  of  an  expert  to  know  the  difference. 


LADY  CLARE 


THE  STORY  OF  A   HORSE 

The  king  was  dead,  and  among  the  many  things 
he  left  behind  him  which  his  successor  had  no 
use  for  were  a  lot  of  fancy  horses.  There  were 
long-barrelled  English  hunters,  all  legs  and  neck ; 
there  were  Kentucky  racers,  graceful,  swift,  and 
strong ;  and  two  Arabian  steeds,  which  had  been 
presented  to  his  late  majesty  by  the  Sultan  of  Tur- 
key. To  see  the  beautiful  beasts  prancing  and 
plunging,  as  they  were  being  led  through  the  streets 
by  grooms  in  the  royal  livery,  was  enough  to  make 
the  blood  dance  in  the  veins  of  any  lover  of  horse- 
flesh. And  to  think  that  they  were  being  led  ig- 
nominiously  to  the  auction  mart  to  be  sold  under 
the  hammer — knocked  down  to  the  highest  bidder ! 
It  was  a  sin  and  a  shame  surely  !  And  they  seemed 
to  feel  it  themselves;  and  that  was  the  reason 
they  acted  so  obstreperously,  sometimes  lifting  the 
grooms  off  their  feet  as  they  reared  and  snorted 
and  struck  sparks  with  their  steel-shod  hoofs  from 
the  stone  pavement. 


LADY  CLARE  143 

Among  the  crowd  of  schoolboys  who  followed 
the  equine  procession,  shrieking  and  yelling  with 
glee  and  exciting  the  horses  by  their  wanton 
screams,  was  a  handsome  lad  of  fourteen,  named 
Erik  Carstens.  He  had  fixed  his  eyes  admiringly 
on  a  coal-black,  four-year-old  mare,  a  mere  colt, 
which  brought  up  the  rear  of  the  procession.  How 
exquisitely  she  was  fashioned !  How  she  danced 
over  the  ground  with  a  light  mazurka  step,  as  if 
she  were  shod  with  gutta-percha  and  not  with  iron ! 
And  then  she  had  a  head  so  daintily  shaped,  small 
and  spirited,  that  it  was  a  joy  to  look  at  her.  Erik, 
who,  in  spite  of  his  youth,  was  not  a  bad  judge  of 
a  horse,  felt  his  heart  beat  like  a  trip-hammer,  and 
a  mighty  yearning  took  possession  of  him  to  be- 
come the  owner  of  that  mare.  Though  he  knew  it 
was  time  for  dinner  he  could  not  tear  himself  away, 
but  followed  the  procession  up  one  street  and  down 
another,  until  it  stopped  at  the  horse  market. 
There  a  lot  of  jockeys  and  coarse-looking  dealers 
were  on  hand  ;  and  an  opportunity  was  afforded 
them  to  try  the  horses  before  the  auction  began. 
They  forced  open  the  mouths  of  the  beautiful  ani- 
mals, examined  their  teeth,  prodded  them  with 
w'hips  to  see  if  they  were  gentle,  and  poked  them 
with  their  fingers  or  canes.  But  when  a  loutish  fel- 
low, in  a  brown  corduroy  suit,  indulged  in  that 
kind  of  behavior  toward  the  black  mare  she  gave  a 
resentful  whinny  and  without  further  ado  grabbed 


144  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

him  with  her  teeth  by  the  coat  collar,  lifted  him  up 
and  shook  him  as  if  he  had  been  a  bag  of  straw. 
Then  she  dropped  him  in  the  mud,  and  raised  her 
dainty  head  with  an  air  as  if  to  say  that  she  held 
him  to  be  beneath  contempt.  The  fellow,  how- 
ever, was  not  inclined  to  put  up  with  that  kind 
of  treatment.  With  a  volley  of  oaths  he  sprang  up 
and  would  have  struck  the  mare  in  the  mouth  with 
his  clinched  fist,  if  Erik  had  not  darted  forward  and 
warded  off  the  blow. 

"  How  dare  you  strike  that  beautiful  creature  ?  " 
he  cried,  indignantly. 

"  Hold  your  jaw,  you  gosling,  or  I'll  hit  you 
instead,"  retorted  the  man. 

But  by  that  time  one  of  the  royal  grooms  had 
made  his  appearance  and  the  brute  did  not  dare 
carry  out  his  threat.  While  the  groom  strove  to 
quiet  the  mare,  a  great  tumult  arose  in  some  other 
part  of  the  market-place.  There  was  a  whinnying, 
plunging,  rearing,  and  screaming,  as  if  the  whole 
field  had  gone  mad.  The  black  mare  joined  in  the 
concert,  and  stood  with  her  ears  pricked  up  and 
her  head  raised  in  an  attitude  of  panicky  expecta- 
tion.  Quite  fearlessly  Erik  walked  up  to  her, 
patted  her  on  the  neck  and  spoke  soothingly  to 

her. 

"  Look  out,'*  yelled  the  groom,  "  or  she'll  tram- 
ple you  to  jelly  !  " 

But  instead  of  that,  the  mare  rubbed  her  soft 


LADY   CLARE  145 

nose  against  the  boy's  cheek,  with  a  low,  friendly 
neighing,  as  if  she  wished  to  thank  him  for  his  gal- 
lant conduct.  And  at  that  moment  Erik's  heart 
went  out  to  that  dumb  creature  with  an  affection 
which  he  had  never  felt  toward  any  living  thing 
before.  He  determined,  whatever  might  happen, 
to  bid  on  her  and  to  buy  her,  whatever  she  might 
prove  to  be  worth.  He  knew  he  had  a  few  thou- 
sand dollars  in  the  bank — his  inheritance  from  his 
mother,  who  had  died  when  he  was  a  baby — and 
he  might,  perhaps,  be  able  to  persuade  his  father 
to  sanction  the  purchase.  At  any  rate,  he  would 
have  some  time  to  invent  ways  and  means ;  for 
his  father.  Captain  Carstens,  was  now  away  on  the 
great  annual  drill,  and  would  not  return  for  some 
weeks. 

As  a  mere  matter  of  form,  he  resolved  to  try  the 
mare  before  bidding  on  her;  and  slipping  a  coin 
into  the  groom's  hand  he  asked  for  a  saddle.  It 
turned  out,  however,  that  all  the  saddles  were  in 
use,  and  Erik  had  no  choice  but  to  mount  bare- 
back. 

*'  Ride  her  on  the  snafifle.  She  won't  stand  the 
curb,"  shouted  the  groom,  as  the  mare,  after  plung- 
ing to  the  right  and  to  the  left,  darted  through 
the  gate  to  the  track,  and,  after  kicking  up  a  vast 
deal  of  tan-bark,  sped  like  a  bullet  down  the  race- 
course. 

"  Good  gracious,  how  recklessly  that  boy  rides  1  " 

lO 


1 46  BO  YHO OD  IN  NOR  WA  V 

one  jockey  observed  to  another  ;  "  but  he  has  got  a 
crood  grip  with  his  knees  all  the  same." 

"  Yes,  he  sits  like  a  daisy,"  the  second  replied, 
critically;  "but  mind  my  word.  Lady  Clare  will 
throw  him  yet.  She  never  could  stand  anybody 
but  the  princess  on  her  back :  and  that  was  the  rea- 
son her  Royal  Highness  was  so  fond  of  her.  Mother 
of  Moses,  won't  there  be  a  grand  rumpus  when  she 
comes  back  again  and  finds  Lady  Clare  gone !  I 
should  not  like  to  be  in  the  shoes  of  the  man  who 
has  ordered  Lady  Clare  under  the  hammer." 

"  But  look  at  the  lad  !     I  told  you  Lady  Clare 
wouldn't  stand  no  manner  of  nonsense  from  boys." 
"  She  is  kicking  like  a  Trojan  !    She'll  make  hash 
of  him  if  he  loses  his  seat." 

"  Yes,  but  he  sticks  like  a  burr.  That's  a  jewel 
of  a  lad,  I  tell  ye.  He  ought  to  have  been  a 
jockey." 

Up  the  track  came  Lady  Clare,  black  as  the  ace 
of  spades,  acting  like  the  Old  Harry.  Something 
had  displeased  her,  obviously,  and  she  held  Erik 
responsible  for  it.  Possibly  she  had  just  waked  up 
to  the  fact  that  she,  who  had  been  the  pet  of  a 
princess,  was  now  being  ridden  by  an  ordinary  com- 
moner. At  all  events,  she  had  made  up  her  mind 
to  get  rid  of  the  commoner  without  further  cere- 
mony.  Putting  her  fine  ears  back  and  dilating  her 
nostrils,  she  suddenly  gave  a  snort  and  a  whisk 
with  her  tail,  and  up  went  her  heels  toward  the 


LADY  CLARE  147 

eternal  stars— that  is,  if  there  had  been  any  stars 
visible  just  then.     Everybody's  heart  stuck  in  his 
throat ;  for  fleet-footed  racers  were  speeding  round 
and  round,  and  the  fellow  who  got  thrown  in  the 
midst   of    all  these   trampling   hoofs    would   have 
small  chance  of  looking  upon  the  sun  again.     Peo- 
ple instinctively  tossed  their  heads  up   to  see  how 
high  he  would  go  before  coming  down  again  ;    but, 
for  a  wonder,  they  saw  nothing,  except  a  cloud  of 
dust   mixed   with   tan-bark,   and   when    that   had 
cleared  away  they  discovered  the  black  mare  and 
her  rider,  apparently  on  the  best  of  terms,  dashing 
up  the  track  at  a  breakneck  pace. 

Erik  was  dripping  with  perspiration  when  he  dis- 
mounted, and  Lady  Clare's  glossy  coat  was  flecked 
with  foam.     She  was  not  aware,  apparently,  that  if 
she  had  any  reputation  to  ruin  she  had  damaged  it 
most  effectually.     Her  behavior  on  the  track  and 
her  treatment  of  the  horse-dealer  were  by  this  time 
common   property,  and    every   dealer   and   fancier 
made   a   mental   note    that    Lady   Clare   was    the 
number  in  the  catalogue  which  he  would  not  bid 
on.     All   her    beauty  and  her  distinguished  ances- 
try counted  for  nothing,  as  long  as  she  had  so  un- 
certain a  temper.     Her  sire,  Potiphar,  it  appeared, 
had  also  been  subject  to  the  same  infirmities  of 
temper,  and  there  was  a  strain  of  savagery  in  her 
blood  which  might  crop  out  when  you  least  ex- 
pected it. 


1 48  BO  YHO OD  IN  NOR  WA  V 

Accordingly,  when  a  dozen  fine  horses  had  been 
knocked  down  at  good  prices,  and  Lady  Clare's 
turn  came,  no  one  came  forward  to  inspect  her,  and 
no  one  could  be  found  to  make  a  bid. 

"  Well,  well,  gentlemen,"  cried  the  auctioneer, 
"  here  we  have  a  beautiful  thoroughbred  mare,  the 
favorite  mount  of  Her  Royal  Highness  the  Prin- 
cess, and  not  a  bid  do  I  hear.  She's  a  beauty, 
gentlemen,  sired  by  the  famous  Potiphar  who  won 
the  Epsom  Handicap  and  no  end  of  minor  stakes. 
Take  a  look  at  her,  gentlemen  !  Did  you  ever  see 
a  horse  before  that  was  raven  black  from  nose  to 
tail  ?  I  reckon  you  never  did.  But  such  a  horse 
is  Lady  Clare.  The  man  who  can  find  a  single 
white  hair  on  her  can  have  her  for  a  gift.  Come 
forward,  gentlemen,  come  forward.  Who  will  start 
her — say  at  five  hundred  ?  " 

A  derisive  laugh  ran  through  the  crowd,  and  a 
voice  was  heard  to  cry,  "  Fifty." 

"  Fifty ! "  repeated  the  auctioneer,  in  a  deeply 
grieved  and  injured  tone;  "fifty  did  you  say,  sir? 
Fifty  ?  Did  I  hear  rightly  ?  I  hope,  for  the  sake 
of  the  honor  of  this  fair  city,  that  my  ears  deceived 
me. 

Here  came  a  long  and  impressive  pause,  during 
which  the  auctioneer,  suddenly  abandoning  his 
dramatic  manner,  chatted  familiarly  with  a  gentle- 
man who  stood  near  him.  The  only  one  in  the 
crowd  whom  he  had   impressed  with  the  fact  that 


LADY  CLARE  149 

the  honor  of  the  city  was  at  stake  in  this  sale  was 
Erik  Carstens.  He  had  happily  discovered  a  young 
and  rich  lieutenant  of  his  father's  company,  and 
was  trying  to  persuade  him  to  bid  in  the  mare  for 
him. 

"  But,  my  dear  boy,"  Lieutenant  Blicker  ex- 
claimed, "  what  do  you  suppose  the  captain  will 
say  to  me  if  I  aid  and  abet  his  son  in  defying  the 
paternal  authority  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  bother  about  that,"  Erik  re- 
joined eagerly.  "  If  father  was  at  home,  I  believe 
he  would  allow  me  to  buy  this  mare.  But  I  am 
a  minor  yet,  and  the  auctioneer  would  not  accept 
my  bid.  Therefore  I  thought  you  might  be  kind 
enough  to  bid  for  me." 

The  lieutenant  made  no  answer,  but  looked  at 
the  earnest  face  of  the  boy  with  unmistakable  sym- 
pathy. The  auctioneer  assumed  again  an  insulted, 
affronted,  pathetically  entreating  or  scornfully  re- 
pelling tone,  according  as  it  suited  his  purpose; 
and  the  price  of  Lady  Clare  crawled  slowly  and 
reluctantly  up  from  fifty  to  seventy  dollars.  There 
it  stopped,  and  neither  the  auctioneer's  tears  nor 
his  prayers  could  apparently  coax  it  higher. 

"  Seventy  dollars  ! "  he  cried,  as  if  he  were  really 
too  shocked  to  speak  at  all  ;  "  seven-ty  dollars ! 
Make  it  eighty !  Oh,  it  is  a  sin  and  a  shame,  gen- 
tlemen, and  the  fair  fame  of  this  beautiful  city  is 
eternally  ruined.     It  will  become  a  wagging  of  the 


150  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

head  and  a  byword  among  the  nations.  Sev-en-ty 
dollars  !  " — then  hotly  and  indignantly — "  seventy 
dollars  ! — fifth  and  last  time,  seventy  dollars  !  " — 
here  he  raised  his  hammer  threateningly — "  sev- 
enty dollars  !  " 

*'  One  hundred  !  "  cried  a  high  boyish  voice,  and 
in  an  instant  every  neck  was  craned  and  every  eye 
was  turned  toward  the  corner  where  Erik  Carstens 
was  standing,  half  hidden  behind  the  broad  figure 
of  Lieutenant  Blicker. 

"  Did  I  hear  a  hundred  ?  "  repeated  the  auction- 
eer, wonderingly.  "  May  I  ask  who  was  the  gen- 
tleman who  said  a  hundred  ?  " 

An  embarrassing  silence  followed.  Erik  knew 
that  if  he  acknowledged  the  bid  he  would  suffer 
the  shame  of  having  it  refused.  But  his  excite- 
ment and  his  solicitude  for  the  fair  fame  of  his  na- 
tive city  had  carried  him  away  so  completely  that 
the  words  had  escaped  from  his  lips  before  he  was 
fully  aware  of  their  import. 

"  May  I  ask,"  repeated  the  wielder  of  the  ham- 
mer, slowly  and  emphatically,  "  may  I  ask  the  gen- 
tleman who  offered  one  hundred  dollars  for  Lady 
Clare  to  come  forward  and  give  his  name  ?" 

He  now  looked  straight  at  Erik,  who  blushed  to 
the  edge  of  his  hair,  but  did  not  stir  from  the  spot. 
From  sheer  embarrassment  he  clutched  the  lieuten- 
ant's arm,  and  almost  pinched  it. 

*'  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,"  the  ofificer  exclaimed, 


LADY  CLARB  I51 

addressing  the  auctioneer,  as  if  he  had  suddenly 
been  aroused  from  a  fit  of  abstraction ;  "  I  made 
the  bid  of  one  hundred  dollars,  or — or — at  any  rate, 
I  make  it  now." 

The  same  performance,  intended  to  force  up  the 
price,  was  repeated  once  more,  but  with  no  avail, 
and  at  the  end  of"  two  minutes  Lady  Clare  was 
knocked  down  to  Lieutenant  Blicker. 

"  Now  I  have  gone  and  done  it  like  the  bloom- 
ing idiot  that  I  am,"  observed  the  lieutenant,  when 
Lady  Clare  was  led  into  his  stable  by  a  liveried 
groom.  *'  What  an  overhauling  the  captain  will 
give  me  when  he  gets  home." 

"You  need  have  no  fear,"  Erik  replied.  "I'll 
sound  father  as  soon  as  he  gets  home ;  and  if  he 
makes  any  trouble  I'll  pay  you  that  one  hundred 
dollars,  with  interest,  the  day  I  come  of  age." 

Well,  the  captain  came  home,  and  having  long 
had  the  intention  to  present  his  son  with  a  saddle- 
horse,  he  allowed  himself  to  be  cajoled  into  ap- 
proving of  the  bargain.  The  mare  was  an  exqui- 
site creature,  if  ever  there  was  one,  and  he  could 
well  understand  how  Erik  had  been  carried  away. 
Lieutenant  Blicker,  instead  of  being  hauled  over 
the  coals,  as  he  had  expected,  received  thanks  for 
his  kind  and  generous  conduct  toward  the  son  of 
his  superior  officer.  As  for  Erik  himself,  he  had 
never  had  any  idea  that  a  boy's  life  could  be  so 
glorious  as  his  was  now.     Mounted  on  that  splen- 


152  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

did,  coal-black  mare,  he  rode  through  the  city  and 
far  out  into  the  country  at  his  father's  side ;  and 
never  did  it  seem  to  him  that  he  had  loved  his 
father  so  well  as  he  did  during  these  afternoon 
rides.  The  captain  was  far  from  suspecting  that  in 
that  episode  of  the  purchase  of  Lady  Clare  his  own 
relation  to  his  son  had  been  at  stake.  Not  that 
Erik  would  not  have  obeyed  his  father,  even  if  he 
had  turned  out  his  rough  side  and  taken  the  lieu- 
tenant to  task  for  his  kindness ;  but  their  relation 
would  in  that  case  have  lacked  the  warm  intimacy 
(which  in  nowise  excludes  obedience  and  respect) 
and  that  last  touch  of  devoted  admiration  which 
now  bound  them  together. 

That  fine  touch  of  sympathy  in  the  captain's 
disposition  which  had  enabled  him  to  smile  indul- 
gently at  his  son's  enthusiasm  for  the  horse  made 
the  son  doubly  anxious  not  to  abuse  such  kindness, 
and  to  do  everything  in  his  power  to  deserve  the 
confidence  which  made  his  life  so  rich  and  happy. 
Though,  as  I  have  said,  Captain  Carstens  lacked 
the  acuteness  to  discover  how  much  he  owed  to 
Lady  Clare,  he  acknowledged  himself  in  quite  a 
different  way  her  debtor.  He  had  never  really 
been  aware  what  a  splendid  specimen  of  a  boy  his 
son  was  until  he  saw  him  on  the  back  of  that  spir- 
ited mare,  which  cut  up  with  him  like  the  Old 
Harry,  and  yet  never  succeeded  in  flurrying,  far 
less  in  unseating  him.     The  captain  felt  a  glow  of 


LADY  CLARE  1 53 

affection  warming  his  breast  at  the  sight  of  this, 
and  his  pride  in  Erik's  horsemanship  proved  a  con- 
solation to  him  when  the  boy's  less  distinguished 
performances  at  school  caused  him  fret  and  worry. 

"  A  boy  so  full  of  pluck  must  amount  to  some- 
thing, even  if  he  does  not  take  kindly  to  Latin,"  he 
reflected  many  a  time.  "  I  am  afraid  I  have  made 
a  mistake  in  having  him  prepared  for  college.  In 
the  army  now,  and  particularly  in  the  cavalry,  he 
would  make  a  reputation  in  twenty  minutes." 

And  a  cavalryman  Erik  might,  perhaps,  have  be- 
come if  his  father  had  not  been  transferred  to  an- 
other post,  and  compelled  to  take  up  his  residence 
in  the  country.  It  was  nominally  a  promotion,  but 
Captain  Carstens  was  ill  pleased  with  it,  and  even 
had  some  thought  of  resigning  rather  than  give  up 
his  delightful  city  life,  and  move  far  northward 
into  the  region  of  cod  and  herring.  However,  he 
was  too  young  a  man  to  retire  on  a  pension,  as 
yet,  and  so  he  gradually  reconciled  himself  to  the 
thought,  and  sailed  northward  in  the  month  of 
April  with  his  son  and  his  entire  household.  It 
had  long  been  a  question  whether  Lady  Clare 
should  make  the  journey  with  them  ;  for  Captain 
Carstens  maintained  that  so  high-bred  an  animal 
would  be  very  sensitive  to  climatic  changes  and 
might  even  die  on  the  way.  Again,  he  argued  that 
it  was  an  absurdity  to  bring  so  fine  a  horse  into  a 
rough  country,  where  the  roads  are  poor  and  where 


154  BO  YHO OD  IN  NOR IV A  Y 

nature,  in  mercy,  provides  all  beasts  with  rough, 
shaggy  coats  to  protect  them  from  the  cold.  How- 
would  Lady  Clare,  with  her  glossy  satin  coat,  her 
slender  legs  that  pirouetted  so  daintily  over  the 
ground,  and  her  exquisite  head,  which  she  carried 
so  proudly — how  would  she  look  and  what  kind  of 
figure  would  she  cut  among  the  shaggy,  stunted, 
sedate-looking  nags  of  the  Sognefiord  district  ? 
But  the  captain,  though  what  he  said  was  irrefut- 
able, had  to  suspend  all  argument  when  he  saw 
how  utterly  wretched  Erik  became  at  the  mere 
thought  of  losing  Lady  Clare.  So  he  took  his 
chances ;  and,  after  having  ordered  blankets  of 
three  different  thicknesses  for  three  different  kinds 
of  weather,  shipped  the  mare  with  the  rest  of  his 
family  for  his  new  northern  home. 

As  the  weather  proved  unusually  mild  during 
the  northward  voyage  Lady  Clare  arrived  in  Sogn 
without  accident  or  adventure.  And  never  in  all 
her  life  had  she  looked  more  beautiful  than  she  did 
when  she  came  off  the  steamer,  and  half  the  popu- 
lation of  the  valley  turned  out  to  see  her.  It  is  no 
use  denying  that  she  was  as  vain  as  any  other  pro- 
fessional beauty,  and  the  way  she  danced  and  pir- 
ouetted on  the  gangplank,  when  Erik  led  her  on  to 
the  pier,  filled  the  rustics  with  amazement.  They 
had  come  to  look  at  the  new  captain  and  his  fam- 
ily ;  but  when  Lady  Clare  appeared  she  eclipsed 
the  rest  of  the  company  so  completely  that  no  one 


LADY  CLARE  155 

had  eyes  for  anybody  but  her.  As  the  sun  was 
shining  and  the  wind  was  mild,  Erik  had  taken  off 
her  striped  overcoat  (which  covered  her  from  nose 
to  tail),  for  he  felt  in  every  fibre  of  his  body  the 
sensation  she  was  making,  and  blushed  with  pleas- 
ure as  if  the  admiring  exclamations  had  been  in- 
tended for  himself. 

"  Look  at  that  horse,"  cried  young  and  old,  with 
eyes  as  big  as  saucers,  pointing  with  their  fingers  at 
Lady  Clare. 

"  Handsome  carcass  that  mare  has,"  remarked  a 
stoutish  man,  who  knew  what  he  was  talking  about ; 
"  and  head  and  legs  to  match." 

"  She  beats  your  Valders-Roan  all  hollow,  John 
Garvestad,"  said  a  young  tease  who  stood  next  to 
him  in  the  crowd. 

"  My  Valders-Roan  has  never  seen  his  match 
yet,  and  never  will,  according  to  my  reckoning," 
answered  John  Garvestad. 

*'  Ho !  ho  !  "  shouted  the  young  fellow,  with  a 
mocking  laugh  ;  "  that  black  mare  is  a  hand  taller 
at  the  very  least,  and  I  bet  you  she's  a  high-flyer. 
She  has  got  the  prettiest  legs  I  ever  clapped  eyes  on." 

"  They'd  snap  like  clay  pipes  in  the  mountains," 
replied  Garvestad,  contemptuously. 

Erik,  as  he  blushingly  ascended  the  slope  to  his 
new  home,  leading  Lady  Clare  by  a  halter,  had  no 
suspicion  of  the  sentiments  which  she  had  aroused 
in  John  Garvestad's  breast.     He  was  only  blissfully 


156  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

conscious  of  the  admiration  she  had  excited  ;  and 
he  promised  himself  a  good   deal  of  fun  in  future 
in  showing  of^  his  horsemanship.     He  took  Lady- 
Clare  to  the  stable,  where  a  new  box-stall  had  been 
made  for  her,  examined  the  premises  carefully  and 
nailed  a  board  over  a  crevice  in  the  wall  where  he 
suspected  a  draught.     He  instructed   Anders,  the 
groom,  with  emphatic  and  anxious  repetitions  re- 
garding her  care,  showed  him  how  to  make  Lady- 
Clare's  bed,  how  to  comb  her  mane,  how  to  brush 
her  (for  she  refused  to  endure  currying),  how  to 
blanket  her,  and   how    to   read    the   thermometer 
which  he  nailed  to  one  of  the  posts  of  the  stall. 
The  latter  proved  to  be  a  more  difficult  task  than 
he  had  anticipated  ;  and  the   worst  of  it  was  that 
he  was  not  sure  that  Anders  knew  any  more  on  the 
subject  of  his  instruction  at  the  end  of  the  lesson 
than  he  had  at  the  beginning.     To  make  sure  that 
he  had  understood  him  he  asked  him  to  enter  the 
stall  and  begin  the  process  of  grooming.      But  no 
sooner  had  the  unhappy  fellow  put  his  nose  inside 
the  door  than  Lady  Clare  laid  back  her  ears  in  a 
very  ugly  fashion,  and  with  a  vicious  whisk  of  her 
tail  waltzed  around  and  planted  two  hoof-marks  in 
the  door,  just  where  the  groom's  nose  had  that 
very  instant  vanished.     A  second  and  a  third  trial 
had  similar  results ;  and  as  the  box-stall  was  new 
and  of  hard  wood,  Erik  had  no  wish  to  see  it  fur- 
ther damaged. 


LADY  CLARE  157 

"  I  won't  have  nothin'  to  do  with  that  hoss,  that's 
as  certain  as  my  name  is  Anders,"  the  groom  de- 
clared ;  and  Erik,  knowing  that  persuasion  would 
be  useless,  had  henceforth  to  be  his  own  groom. 
The  fact  was  he  could  not  help  sympathizing  with 
that  fastidiousness  of  Lady  Clare  which  made  her 
object  to  be  handled  by  coarse  fingers  and  roughly 
curried,  combed,  and  washed  like  a  common  plebeian 
nag.  One  does  not  commence  life  associating  with 
a  princess  for  nothing.  Lady  Clare,  feeling  in  every 
nerve  her  high  descent  and  breeding,  had  perhaps  a 
sense  of  having  come  down  in  the  world,  and,  like 
many  another  irrational  creature  of  her  sex,  she 
kicked  madly  against  fate  and  exhibited  the  un- 
loveliest  side  of  her  character.  But  with  all  her 
skittishness  and  caprice  she  was  steadfast  in  one 
thing,  and  that  was  her  love  for  Erik.  As  the  days 
went  by  in  country  monotony,  he  began  to  feel  it 
as  a  privilege  rather  than  a  burden  to  have  the 
exclusive  care  of  her.  The  low,  friendly  neighing 
with  which  she  always  greeted  him,  as  soon  as  he 
opened  the  stable-door,  was  as  intelligible  and  dear 
to  him  as  the  warm  welcome  of  a  friend.  And 
when  with  dainty  alertness  she  lifted  her  small, 
beautiful  head,  over  which  the  fine  net-work  of  veins 
meandered,  above  the  top  of  the  stall,  and  rubbed 
her  nose  caressingly  against  his  cheek,  before  begin- 
ning to  snuff  at  his  various  pockets  for  the  accus- 
tomed lump  of  sugar,  he  felt  a  glow  of  affection 


158  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

spread  from  his  heart  and  pervade  his  whole  being. 
Yes,  he  loved  this  beautiful  animal  with  a  devotion 
which,  a  year  ago,  he  would  scarcely  have  thought 
it  possible  to  bestow  upon  a  horse.  No  one  could 
have  persuaded  him  that  Lady  Clare  had  not  a  soul 
which  (whether  it  was  immortal  or  not)  was,  at  all 
events,  as  distinct  and  clearly  defined  as  that  of  any 
person  with  whom  he  was  acquainted.  She  was  to 
him  a  personality — a  dear,  charming  friend,  with 
certain  defects  of  character  (as  who  has  not  ?)  which 
were,  however,  more  than  compensated  for  by  her 
devotion  to  him.  She  was  fastidious,  quick-tem- 
pered, utterly  unreasonable  where  her  feelings  were 
involved;  full  of  aristocratic  prejudice,  which  only 
lier  sex  could  excuse  ;  and  whimsical,  proud,  and 
capricious.  It  was  absurd,  of  course,  to  contend 
that  these  qualities  were  in  themselves  admirable ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  few  of  us  would  not  consent 
to  overlook  them  in  a  friend  who  loved  us  as  well 
as  Lady  Clare  loved  Erik. 

The  fame  of  Lady  Clare  spread  through  the 
parish  like  fire  in  withered  grass.  People  came 
from  afar  to  look  at  her,  and  departed  full  of  won- 
der at  her  beauty.  When  the  captain  and  his  son 
rode  together  to  church  on  Sunday  morning,  men, 
women,  and  children  stood  in  rows  at  the  roadside 
staring  at  the  wonderful  mare  as  if  she  had  been  a 
dromedary  or  a  rhinoceros.  And  when  she  was  tied 
in  the  clergyman's  stable  a  large  number  of  the  men 


LADY   CLARE  159 

ignored  the  admonition  of  the  church  bells  and 
missed  the  sermon,  being  unable  to  tear  themselves 
away  from  Lady  Clare's  charms.  But  woe  to  him 
who  attempted  to  take  liberties  with  her;  there 
were  two  or  three  horsy  young  men  who  had  nar- 
row escapes  from  bearing  the  imprint  of  her  iron 
shoes  for  the  rest  of  their  days.  That  taught  the 
others  a  lesson,  and  now  Lady  Clare  suffered  from 
no  annoying  familiarities,  but  was  admired  at  a 
respectful  distance,  until  the  pastor,  vexed  at  her 
rivalry  with  his  sermon,  issued  orders  to  have  the 
stable-door  locked  during  service. 

There  was  one  person  besides  the  pastor  who 
was  ill  pleased  at  the  reputation  Lady  Clare  was 
making.  That  was  John  Garvestad,  the  owner  of 
Valders-Roan.  John  was  the  richest  man  in  the 
parish,  and  always  made  a  point  of  keeping  fine 
horses.  Valders-Roan,  a  heavily  built,  powerful 
horse,  with  a  tremendous  neck  and  chest  and  long 
tassels  on  his  fetlocks,  but  rather  squat  in  the  legs, 
had  hitherto  held  undisputed  rank  as  the  finest 
horse  in  all  Sogn.  By  the  side  of  Lady  Clare  he 
looked  as  a  stout,  good-looking  peasant  lad  with 
coltish  manners  might  have  looked  by  the  side  of 
the  daughter  of  a  hundred  earls. 

But  John  Garvestad,  who  was  naturally  preju- 
diced in  favor  of  his  own  horse,  could  scarcely  be 
blamed  for  failing  to  recognize  her  superiority.  He 
knew  that   formerly,   on    Sundays,   the  men   were 


l60  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

wont  to  gather  with  admiring  comment  about 
Valders-Roan  ;  while  now  they  stood  craning  their 
necks,  peering  through  the  windows  of  the  parson's 
stable,  in  order  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  Lady  Clare, 
and  all  the  time  Valders-Roan  was  standing  tied  to 
the  fence,  in  full  view  of  all,  utterly  neglected.  This 
spectacle  filled  him  with  such  ire  that  he  hardly 
could  control  himself.  His  first  impulse  was  to 
pick  a  quarrel  with  Erik;  but  a  second  and  far 
brighter  idea  presently  struck  him.  He  would  buy 
Lady  Clare.  Accordingly,  when  the  captain  and 
his  son  had  mounted  their  horses  and  were  about 
to  start  on  their  homeward  way,  Garvestad,  putting 
Valders-Roan  to  his  trumps,  dug  his  heels  into  his 
sides  and  rode  up  with  a  great  flourish  in  front  of 
the  churchyard  gate. 

"  How  much  will  you  take  for  that  mare  of 
yours,  captain  ? "  he  asked,  as  he  checked  his 
charger  with  unnecessary  vigor  close  to  Lady  Clare. 

"  She  is  not  mine  to  sell,"  the  captain  replied. 
"  Lady  Clare  belongs  to  my  son." 

"  Well,  what  will  you  take  for  her,  then  ?"  Gar- 
vestad repeated,  swaggeringly,  turning  to  Erik. 

"  Not  all  the  gold  in  the  world  could  buy  her," 
retorted  Erik,  warmly. 

Valders-Roan,  unable  to  resist  the  charms  of  Lady 
Clare,  had  in  the  meanwhile  been  making  some 
cautious  overtures  toward  an  acquaintance.  He 
arched  his  mighty  neck,  rose  on  his  hind  legs,  while 


LADY  CLARE  l6l 

his  tremendous  forehoofs  were  beating  the  air^  and 
cut  up  generally — all  for  Lady  Clare's  benefit. 

She,  however,  having  regarded  his  performances 
for  awhile  with  a  mild  and  somewhat  condescend- 
ing interest,  grew  a  little  tired  of  them  and  looked 
out  over  the  fiord,  as  a  belle  might  do,  with  a  sup- 
pressed yawn,  when  her  cavalier  fails  to  entertain 
her.  Valders-Roan,  perceiving  the  slight,  now  con- 
cluded to  make  more  decided  advances.  So  he  put 
forward  his  nose  until  it  nearly  touched  Lady  Clare's, 
as  if  he  meant  to  kiss  her.  But  that  was  more  than 
her  ladyship  was  prepared  to  put  up  with.  Quick 
as  a  flash  she  flung  herself  back  on  her  haunches, 
down  went  her  ears,  and  hers  was  the  ansfriest 
horse's  head  that  ever  had  been  seen  in  that  par- 
ish. With  an  indignant  snort  she  wheeled  around, 
kicking  up  a  cloud  of  dust  by  the  suddenness  of  the 
manoeuvre.  A  less  skilled  rider  than  Erik  would 
inevitably  have  been  thrown  by  two  such  unfore- 
seen jerks ;  and  the  fact  was  he  had  all  he  could  do 
to  keep  his  seat. 

"Oho!"  shouted  Garvestad,  "your  mare  shies; 
she'll  break  your  neck  some  day,  as  likely  as  not. 
You  had  better  sell  her  before  she  gets  you  into 
trouble." 

"  But  I  shouldn't  like  to  have  your  broken  neck 

on  my  conscience,"  Erik  replied ;   "  if  necks  are  to 

be  broken  by  Lady  Clare  I  should  prefer  to  have  it 

be  my  own." 
II 


l62  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

The  peasant  was  not  clever  enough  to  make  out 
whether  this  was  jest  or  earnest.  With  a  puzzled 
frown  he  stared  at  the  youth  and  finally  broke  out : 
"  Then  you  won't  sell  her  at  no  price  ?  Any 
way,  the  day  you  change  your  mind  don't  forget  to 
notify  John  Garvestad.  If  it's  spondulix  you  are 
after,  then  here's  where  there's  plenty  of  'em." 

He  slapped  his  left  breast-pocket  with  a  great 
swagger,  looking  around  to  observe  the  impression 
he  was  making  on  his  audience ;  then,  jerking  the 
bridle  violently,  so  as  to  make  his  horse  rear,  he 
rode  off  like  Alexander  on  Bucephalus,  and  swung 
down  upon  the  highway. 

It  was  but  a  few  weeks  after  this  occurrence  that 
Captain  Carstens  and  his  son  were  invited  to  honor 
John  Garvestad  by  their  presence  at  his  wedding. 
They  were  in  doubt,  at  first,  as  to  whether  they 
ought  to  accept  the  invitation  ;  for  some  unpleas- 
ant rumors  had  reached  them,  showing  that  Gar- 
vestad entertained  unfriendly  feelings  toward  them. 
He  was  an  intensely  vain  man  ;  and  the  thought 
that  Erik  Carstens  had  a  finer  horse  than  Valders- 
Roan  left  him  no  peace.  He  had  been  heard  to 
say  repeatedly  that,  if  that  high-nosed  youth  per- 
sisted in  his  refusal  to  sell  the  mare,  he  would  dis- 
cover his  mistake  when,  perhaps,  it  would  be  too 
late  to  have  it  remedied.  Whatever  that  meant,  it 
sufficed  to  make  both  Erik  and  his  father  uneasy. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  would  be  the  worst  pol- 


LADY   CLARE  1 63 

icy  possible,  under  such  circumstances,  to  refuse 
the  invitation.  For  that  would  be  interpreted 
either  as  fear  or  as  aristocratic  exclusiveness ;  and 
the  captain,  while  he  was  new  in  the  district,  was 
as  anxious  to  avoid  the  appearance  of  the  one  as  of 
the  other.  Accordingly  he  accepted  the  invitation 
and  on  the  appointed  day  rode  with  his  son  into 
the  wide  yard  of  John  Garvestad's  farm,  stopping 
at  the  pump,  where  they  watered  their  horses.  It 
was  early  in  the  afternoon,  and  both  the  house 
and  the  barn  were  thronged  with  wedding-guests. 
From  the  sitting-room  the  strains  of  two  fiddles 
were  heard,  mingled  with  the  scraping  and  stamp- 
ing of  heavy  feet.  Another  musical  performance 
was  in  progress  in  the  barn  ;  and  all  over  the  yard 
elderly  men  and  youths  were  standing  in  smaller 
and  larger  groups,  smoking  their  pipes  and  tasting 
the  beer-jugs,  which  were  passed  from  hand  to 
hand.  But  the  moment  Lady  Clare  was  seen  all 
interest  in  minor  concerns  ceased,  and  with  one  ac- 
cord the  crowd  moved  toward  her,  completely  en- 
circling her,  and  viewing  her  with  admiring  glances 
that  appreciated  all  her  perfections. 

"Did  you  ever  see  cleaner -shaped  legs  on  a 
horse  ?  "  someone  was  heard  to  say,  and  instantly 
his  neighbor  in  the  crowd  joined  the  chorus  of 
praise,  and  added  :  "  What  a  snap  and  spring  there 
is  in  every  bend  of  her  knee  and  turn  of  her  neck 
and  flash  of  her  eye  !  " 


l64  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

It  was  while  this  chorus  of  admiration  was  being 
sung  in  all  keys  and  tones  of  the  whole  gamut, 
that  the  bridegroom  came  out  of  the  house,  a  little 
bit  tipsy,  perhaps,  from  the  many  toasts  he  had 
been  obliged  to  drink,  and  bristling  with  pugnac- 
ity to  the  ends  of  his  fingers  and  the  tips  of  his 
hair.  Every  word  of  praise  that  he  heard  sounded 
in  his  ears  like  a  jeer  and  an  insult  to  himself. 
With  ruthless  thrusts  he  elbowed  his  way  through 
the  throng  of  guests  and  soon  stood  in  front  of  the 
two  horses,  from  which  the  captain  and  Erik  had 
not  yet  had  a  chance  to  dismount.  He  returned 
their  greeting  with  scant  courtesy  and  plunged  in- 
stantly into  the  matter  which  he  had  on  his  mind. 

"  I  reckon  you  have  thought  better  of  my  offer 
by  this  time,"  he  said,  with  a  surly  swagger,  to 
Erik.     "  What  do  you  hold  your  mare  at  to-day  ?  " 

"  I  thought  we  had  settled  that  matter  once  for 
all,"  the  boy  replied,  quietly.  "  I  have  no  more 
intention  of  selling  Lady  Clare  now  than  I  ever 
had." 

"  Then  will  ye  trade  her  off  for  Valders-Roan  ?  " 
ejaculated  Garvestad,  eagerly. 

"  No,  I  won't  trade  her  for  Valders-Roan  or  any 
other  horse  in  creation." 

"  Don't  be  cantankerous,  now,  young  fellow,  or 
you  might  repent  of  it." 

"  I  am  not  cantankerous.  But  I  beg  of  you 
kindly  to  drop  this  matter.     I  came  here,  at  your 


LADY  CLARE  1 6$ 

invitation,  as  a  guest  at  your  wedding,  not  for  the 
purpose  of  trading  horses." 

It  was  an  incautious  speech,  and  was  interpreted 
by  everyone  present  as  a  rebuke  to  the  bridegroom 
for  his  violation  of  the  rules  of  hospitality.  The 
captain,  anxious  to  avoid  a  row,  therefore  broke  in, 
in  a  voice  of  friendly  remonstrance  :  "  My  dear  INIr. 
Garvestad,  do  let  us  drop  this  matter.  If  you  will 
permit  us,  we  should  like  to  dismount  and  drink  a 
toast  to  your  health,  wishing  you  a  long  life  and 
much  happiness." 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  understand  your  smooth  palaver," 
the  bridegroom  growled  between  his  teeth.  "  I 
have  stood  your  insolence  long  enough,  and,  by 
jingo,  I  won't  stand  it  much  longer.  What  will  ye 
take  for  your  mare,  I  say,  or  how  much  do  you 
want  to  boot,  if  you  trade  her  for  Valders-Roan  ?  " 

He  shouted  the  last  words  with  furious  emphasis, 
holding  his  clinched  fist  up  toward  Erik,  and  glar- 
ing at  him  savagely. 

But  now  Lady  Clare,  who  became  frightened 
perhaps  by  the  loud  talk  and  violent  gestures,  be- 
gan to  rear  and  plunge,  and  by  an  unforeseen  mo- 
tion knocked  against  the  bridegroom,  so  that  he 
fell  backward  into  the  horse-trough  under  the 
pump,  which  was  full  of  water.  The  wedding- 
guests  had  hardly  time  to  realize  what  was  happen- 
ing when  a  great  splash  sent  the  water  flying  into 
their  faces,  and  the  burly  form  of  John  Garvestad 


1 66  BO  YIW OD  IN  NOR IV A  Y 

was  seen  sprawling  helplessly  in  the  horse-trough. 
But  then — then  they  realized  it  with  a  vengeance. 
And  a  laugh  went  up— a  veritable  storm  of  laugh- 
ter— which  swept  through  the  entire  crowd  and  re- 
echoed with  a  ghostly  hilarity  from  the  mountains. 
John  Garvestad  in  the  meanwhile  had  managed  to 
pick  himself  out  of  the  horse-trough,  and  while  he 
stood  snorting,  spitting,  and  dripping,  Captain  Car- 
stens  and  his  son  politely  lifted  their  hats  to  him 
and  rode  away.  But  as  they  trotted  out  of  the 
gate  they  saw  their  host  stretch  a  big  clinched  fist 
toward  them,  and  heard  him  scream  with  hoarse 
fury  :  "  I'll  make  ye  smart  for  that  some  day,  so 
help  me  God  1 " 

Lady  Clare  was  not  sent  to  the  mountains  in  the 
summer,  as  are  nearly  all  horses  in  the  Norwegian 
country  districts.  She  was  left  untethered  in  an 
enclosed  home  pasture  about  half  a  mile  from  the 
mansion.  Here  she  grazed,  rolled,  kicked  up  her 
heels,  and  gambolled  to  her  heart's  content.  Dur- 
ing the  long,  bright  summer  nights,  when  the  sun 
scarcely  dips  beneath  the  horizon  and  reappears  in 
an  hour,  clothed  in  the  breezy  garments  of  morn- 
ing, she  was  permitted  to  frolic,  race,  and  play  all 
sorts  of  improvised  games  with  a  shaggy,  little, 
plebeian  three-year-old  colt  whom  she  had  conde- 
scended to  honor  with  her  acquaintance.  This 
colt  must  have  had  some  fine  feeling  under  his 
rough  coat,  for  he  never  presumed  in  the  least  upon 


LADY   CLARE  iG"/ 

the  acquaintance,  being  perhaps  aware  of  the  honor 
it  conferred  upon  him.  He  allowed  himself  to  be 
abused,  ignored,  or  petted,  as  it  might  suit  the 
pleasure  of  her  royal  highness,  with  a  patient,  even- 
tempered  good-nature  which  was  admirable.  When 
Lady  Clare  (perhaps  for  fear  of  making  him  con- 
ceited) took  no  notice  of  him,  he  showed  neither 
resentment  nor  surprise,  but  walked  off  with  a 
sheepish  shake  of  his  head.  Thus  he  slowly 
learned  the  lesson  to  make  no  exhibition  of  feeline 
at  the  sight  of  his  superior ;  not  to  run  up  and 
greet  her  with  a  disrespectfully  joyous  whinny; 
but  calmly  wait  for  her  to  recognize  him  before  ap- 
pearing to  be  aware  of  her  presence.  It  took  Lady 
Clare  several  months  to  accustom  Shag  (for  that 
was  the  colt's  name)  to  her  ways.  She  taught  him 
unconsciously  the  rudiments  of  good  manners  ;  but 
he  proved  himself  docile,  and  when  he  once  had 
been  reduced  to  his  proper  place  he  proved  a  fairly 
acceptable  companion. 

During  the  first  and  second  week  after  John 
Garvestad's  wedding  Erik  had  kept  Lady  Clare 
stabled,  having  a  vague  fear  that  the  angry  peasant 
might  intend  to  do  her  harm.  But  she  whinnied 
so  pitifully  through  the  long  light  nights  that 
finally  he  allowed  his  compassion  to  get  the  better 
of  his  anxiety,  and  once  more  she  was  seen  racing 
madly  about  the  field  with  Shag,  whom  she  always 
beat  so  ignominiously  that  she  felt  half  sorry  for 


1 68  BO  YHO OD  IN  NOR  WA  V 

him,  and  as  a  consolation  allowed  him  gently  to 
claw  her  mane  with  his  teeth.  This  was  a  privi- 
lege which  Shag  could  not  fail  to  appreciate, 
though  she  never  offered  to  return  the  favor  by- 
clawing  him.  At  any  rate,  as  soon  as  Lady  Clare 
reappeared  in  the  meadow  Shag's  cup  of  bliss 
seemed  to  be  full. 

A  week  passed  in  this  way,  nothing  happened, 
and  Erik's  vigilance  was  relaxed.  He  went  to 
bed  on  the  evening  of  July  loth  with  an  easy 
mind,  without  the  remotest  apprehension  of  dan- 
ger. The  sun  set  about  ten  o'clock,  and  Lady 
Clare  and  Shag  greeted  its  last  departing  rays 
with  a  whinny,  accompanied  by  a  wanton  kickup 
from  the  rear — for  whatever  Lady  Clare  did  Shag 
felt  in  honor  bound  to  do,  and  was  conscious  of  no 
disgrace  in  his  abject  and  ape-like  imitation.  They 
had  spent  an  hour,  perhaps,  in  such  delightful  per- 
formances, when  all  of  a  sudden  they  were  startled 
by  a  deep  bass  whinny,  which  rumbled  and  shook 
like  distant  thunder.  Then  came  the  tramp,  tramp, 
tramp  of  heavy  hoof-beats,  which  made  the  ground 
tremble.  Lady  Clare  lifted  her  beautiful  head  and 
looked  with  fearless  curiosity  in  the  direction 
whence  the  sound  came.  Shag,  of  course,  did  as 
nearly  as  he  could  exactly  the  same.  What  they 
saw  was  a  big  roan  horse  with  an  enormous  arched 
neck,  squat  feet,  and  long-tasselled  fetlocks. 

Lady  Clare  had  no  difBculty  in  recognizing  Vald- 


LADY  CLARE  1 69 

ers-Roan.  But  how  big  and  heavy  and  ominous 
he  looked  in  the  blood-red  after-glow  of  the  blood- 
red  sunset.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life  Lady 
Clare  felt  a  cold  shiver  of  fear  run  through  her. 
There  was,  happily,  a  fence  between  them,  and 
she  devoutly  hoped  that  Valders-Roan  was  not 
a  jumper.  At  that  moment,  however,  two  men 
appeared  next  to  the  huge  horse,  and  Lady  Clare 
heard  the  sound  of  breaking  fence-rails.  The  deep 
hoarse  whinny  once  more  made  the  air  shake,  and 
it  made  poor  Lady  Clare  shake  too,  for  now  she 
saw  Valders-Roan  come  like  a  whirlwind  over  the 
field,  and  so  powerful  were  his  hoof-beats  that 
a  clod  of  earth  which  had  stuck  to  one  of  his 
shoes  shot  like  a  bullet  through  the  air.  He  looked 
so  gigantic,  so  brimming  with  restrained  strength, 
and  somehow  Lady  Clare,  as  she  stood  quaking  at 
the  sight  of  him,  had  never  seemed  to  herself  so 
dainty,  frail,  and  delicate  as  she  seemed  in  this  mo- 
ment. She  felt  herself  so  entirely  at  his  mercy ; 
she  was  no  match  for  him  surely.  Shag,  anxious 
as  ever  to  take  his  cue  from  her,  had  stationed 
himself  at  her  side,  and  shook  his  head  and 
whisked  his  tail  in  a  non-committal  manner.  Now 
Valders-Roan  had  cleared  the  fence  where  the 
men  had  broken  it  down ;  then  on  he  came  again, 
tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  until  he  was  within  half  a 
dozen  paces  from  Lady  Clare.  There  he  stopped, 
for  back  went  Lady  Clare's  pretty  ears,  while  she 


1 70  BOYHOOD  IN  NOR IV A  V 

threw  herself   upon   her   haunches  in    an  attitude 
of  defence.     She  was  dimly  aware  that  this  was  a 
foolish  thing  to   do,  but   her   inbred   disdain   and 
horror  of   everything  rough    made  her  act   on    in- 
stinct  instead  of  reason.     Valders-Roan,  irritated 
by  this  uncalled-for  action,  now  threw  ceremony  to 
the   winds,    and   without    further   ado   trotted    up 
and  rubbed  his  nose  against  hers.     That  was  more 
than  Lady  Clare  could  stand.     With  an  hysterical 
snort  she  flung  herself  about,  and  up  flew  her  heels 
straight  into  the  offending  nose,  inflicting  consid- 
erable damage.     Shag,  being  now  quite  clear  that 
the  programme  was  fight,  whisked  about  in  exactly 
the  same  manner,   with  as  close   an    imitation  of 
Lady  Clare's  snort  as  he  could  produce,  and  a  sec- 
ond pair  of  steel-shod  heels  came  within  a  hair  of 
reducing  the  enemy's  left  nostril  to  the  same  condi- 
tion as  the  right.     But  alas  for  the  generous  folly 
of  youth  !     Shag  had   to   pay  dearly  for  that  ex- 
hibition of  devotion.     Valders-Roan,  enraged  by 
this   wanton    insult,    made   a   dash    at    Shag,   and 
by   the    mere   impetus   of    his   huge   bulk    nearly 
knocked  him  senseless.     The  colt  rolled  over,  flung 
all  his  four  legs  inio   the  air,  and  as  soon  as  he 
could  recover   his   footing   reeled   sideways  like   a 
drunken  man   and  made  haste  to  retire  to  a  safe 
distance. 

Valders-Roan  had  now  a  clear  field    and   could 
turn  his  undivided  attention  to  Lady  Clare.     I  am 


LADY   CLARE  I7I 

not  sure  that  he  had  not  made  an  example  of  Shag 
merely  to  frighten  her.  Bounding  forward  with 
his  mighty  chest  expanded  and  the  blood  dripping 
from  his  nostrils,  he  struck  out  with  a  tremendous 
hind  leg  and  would  have  returned  Lady  Clare's 
blow  with  interest  if  she  had  not  leaped  high  into 
the  air.  She  had  just  managed  by  her  superior 
alertness  to  dodge  that  deadly  hoof,  and  was  per- 
haps not  prepared  for  an  instant  renewal  of  the  at- 
tack. But  she  had  barely  gotten  her  four  feet  in 
contact  with  the  sod  when  two  rows  of  terrific  teeth 
plunged  into  her  withers.  The  pain  was  frightful, 
and  with  a  long,  pitiful  scream  Lady  Clare  sank 
down  upon  the  ground,  and,  writhing  with  agony, 
beat  the  air  with  her  hoofs.  Shag,  who  had  by 
this  time  recovered  his  senses,  heard  the  noise  of 
the  battle,  and,  plucking  up  his  courage,  trotted 
bravely  forward  against  the  victorious  Valders- 
Roan.  He  was  so  frightened  that  his  heart  shot 
up  into  his  throat.  But  there  lay  Lady  Clare 
mangled  and  bleeding.  He  could  not  leave  her  in 
the  lurch,  so  forward  he  came,  trembling,  just  as 
Lady  Clare  was  trying  to  scramble  to  her  feet. 
Led  away  by  his  sympathy  Shag  bent  his  head 
down  toward  her  and  thereby  prevented  her  from 
rising.  And  in  the  same  instant  a  stunning  blow 
hit  him  straight  in  the  forehead,  a  shower  of  sparks 
danced  before  his  eyes,  and  then  Shag  saw  and 
heard  no  more.     A  convulsive  quiver  ran  through 


172  BOYHOOD   IN  NORWAY 

his  body,  then   he  stretched  out  his  neck  on  the 
bloody  grass,  heaved  a  sigh,  and  died. 

Lady  Clare,  seeing  Shag  killed  by  the  blow 
which  had  been  intended  for  herself,  felt  her  blood 
run  cold.  She  was  strongly  inclined  to  run,  for  she 
could  easily  beat  the  heavy  Valders-Roan  at  a  race, 
and  her  fleet  legs  might  yet  save  her.  I  cannot  say 
whether  it  was  a  generous  wrath  at  the  killing  of 
her  humble  champion  or  a  mere  blind  fury  which 
overcame  this  inclination.  But  she  knew  now 
neither  pain  nor  fear.  With  a  shrill  scream  she 
rushed  at  Valders-Roan,  and  for  five  minutes  a 
whirling  cloud  of  earth  and  grass  and  lumps  of  sod 
moved  irregularly  over  the  field,  and  tails,  heads, 
and  legs  were  seen  flung  and  tossed  madly  about, 
while  an  occasional  shriek  of  rage  or  of  pain  startled 
the  night,  and  re-echoed  with  a  weird  resonance 
between  the  mountains. 

It  was  about  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  July 
nth,  that  Erik  awoke,  with  a  vague  sense  that 
something  terrible  had  happened.  His  groom  was 
standing  at  his  bedside  with  a  terrified  face,  doubt- 
ful whether  to  arouse  his  young  master  or  allow  him 
to  sleep. 

"  What  has  happened,  Anders  ?  "  cried  Erik,  tum- 
bling out  of  bed. 

"  Lady  Clare,  sir " 

"  Lady  Clare  !  "  shouted  the  boy  "  What  about 
her  ?     Has  she  been  stolen  ?  " 


LADY  CLARE  1 73 

"  No,  I  reckon  not,"  drawled  Anders. 

"  Then  she's  dead  !  Quick,  tell  me  what  you 
know  or  I  shall  go  crazy  ! " 

"  No ;  I  can't  say  for  sure  she's  dead  either," 
the  groom  stammered,  helplessly. 

Erik,  being  too  stunned  with  grief  and  pain, 
tumbled  in  a  dazed  fashion  about  the  room,  and 
scarcely  knew  how  he  managed  to  dress.  He  felt 
cold,  shivery,  and  benumbed;  and  the  daylight  had 
a  cruel  glare  in  it  which  hurt  his  eyes.  Accom- 
panied by  his  groom,  he  hastened  to  the  home 
pasture,  and  saw  there  the  evidence  of  the  fierce 
battle  which  had  raged  during  the  night.  A  long, 
black,  serpentine  track,  where  the  sod  had  been 
torn  up  by  furious  hoof-beats,  started  from  the  dead 
carcass  of  the  faithful  Shag  and  moved  with  irregu- 
lar breaks  and  curves  up  toward  the  gate  that  con- 
nected the  pasture  with  the  underbrush  of  birch 
and  alder.  Here  the  fence  had  been  broken  down, 
and  the  track  of  the  fight  suddenly  ceased.  A  pool 
of  blood  had  soaked  into  the  ground,  showing  that 
one  of  the  horses,  and  probably  the  victor,  must 
have  stood  still  for  a  while,  allowing  the  van- 
quished to  escape. 

Erik  had  no  need  of  being  told  that  the  horse 
which  had  attacked  Lady  Clare  was  Valders-Roan; 
and  though  he  would  scarcely  have  been  able  to 
prove  it,  he  felt  positive  that  John  Garvestad  had 
arranged  and  probably  watched  the  fight.     Having 


174  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

a  wholesome  dread  of  jail,  he  had  not  dared  to  steal 
Lady  Clare  ;  but  he  had  chosen  this  contemptible 
method  to  satisfy  his  senseless  jealousy.  It  was 
all  so  cunningly  devised  as  to  baffle  legal  inquiry. 
Valders-Roan  had  gotten  astray,  and  being  a  heavy 
beast,  had  broken  into  a  neighbor's  field  and  fought 
with  his  filly,  chasing  her  away  into  the  mountains. 
That  was  the  story  he  would  tell,  of  course,  and  as 
there  had  been  no  witnesses  present,  there  was  no 
way  of  disproving  it. 

Abandoning,  however,  for  the  time  being  all 
thought  of  revenge,  Erik  determined  to  bend  all 
his  energies  to  the  recovery  of  Lady  Clare.  He 
felt  confident  that  she  had  run  away  from  her 
assailant,  and  was  now  roaming  about  in  the 
mountains.  He  therefore  organized  a  search  party 
of  all  the  male  servants  on  the  estate,  besides  a 
couple  of  volunteers,  making  in  all  nine.  On  the 
evening  of  the  first  day's  search  they  put  up  at 
a  saeter  or  mountain  chalet.  Here  they  met  a 
young  man  named  ToUef  Morud,  who  had  once 
been  a  groom  at  John  Garvestad's.  This  man  had 
a  bad  reputation ;  and  as  the  idea  occurred  to  some 
of  them  that  he  might  know  something  about  Lady 
Clare's  disappearance,  they  questioned  him  at  great 
length,  without,  however,  eliciting  a  single  crumb 
of  information. 

For  a  week  the  search  was  continued,  but  had 
finally  to  be  given  up.    Weary,  footsore,  and  heavy- 


LADY  CLARE  1/5 

hearted,  Erik  returned  home.  His  grief  at  the  loss 
of  Lady  Clare  began  to  tell  on  his  health  ;  and  his 
perpetual  plans  for  getting  even  with  John  Gar- 
vestad  amounted  almost  to  a  mania,  and  caused 
his  father  both  trouble  and  anxiety.  It  was  there 
fore  determined  to  send  him  to  the  military  acad- 
emy in  the  capital. 

Four  or  five  years  passed  and  Erik  became  a 
lieutenant.  It  was  during  the  first  year  after  his 
graduation  from  the  military  academy  that  he  was 
invited  to  spend  the  Christmas  holidays  with  a 
friend,  whose  parents  lived  on  a  fine  estate  about 
twenty  miles  from  the  city.  Seated  in  their  nar- 
row sleighs,  which  were  drawn  by  brisk  horses,  they 
drove  merrily  along,  shouting  to  each  other  to  make 
their  voices  heard  above  the  jingling  of  the  bells. 
About  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  when  the  moon 
was  shining  brightly  and  the  snow  sparkling,  they 
turned  in  at  a  wayside  tavern  to  order  their  supper. 
Here  a  great  crowd  of  lumbermen  had  congregated, 
and  all  along  the  fences  their  overworked,  half- 
broken-down  horses  stood,  shaking  their  nose-bags. 
The  air  in  the  public  room  was  so  filled  with  the 
fumes  of  damp  clothes  and  bad  tobacco  that  Erik 
and  his  friend,  while  waiting  for  their  meal,  pre- 
ferred to  spend  the  time  under  the  radiant  sky. 
They  were  sauntering  about,  talking  in  a  desultory 
fashion,  when  all  of  a  sudden  a  wild,  joyous  whinny 
rang  out   upon  the  startled  air.     It  came  from  a 


176  BO  YIIO OD  IN  NOR  WA  Y 

rusty,  black,  decrepit- looking  mare  hitched  to  a 
lumber  sleigh  which  they  had  just  passed.  Erik, 
growing  very  serious,  paused  abruptly. 

A  second  whinny,  lower  than  the  first,  but  almost 
alluring  and  cajoling,  was  so  directly  addressed  to 
Erik  that  he  could  not  help  stepping  up  to  the  mare 
and  patting  her  on  the  nose. 

"  You  once  had  a  horse  you  cared  a  great  deal 
for,  didn't  you?"  his  friend  remarked,  casually. 

"  Oh,  don't  speak  about  it,"  answered  Erik,  in  a 
voice  that  shook  with  emotion  ;  "  I  loved  Lady  Clare 
as  I  never  loved  any  creature  in  this  world — except 
my  father,  of  course,"  he  added,  reflectively. 

But  what  was  the  matter  with  the  old  lumber 
nag  ?  At  the  sound  of  the  name  Lady  Clare  she 
pricked  up  her  ears,  and  lifted  her  head  with  a 
pathetic  attempt  at  alertness.  With  a  low,  insinu- 
ating neighing  she  rubbed  her  nose  against  the  lieu- 
tenant's cheek.  He  had  let  his  hand  glide  over  her 
long,  thin  neck,  when  quite  suddenly  his  fingers  slid 
into  a  deep  scar  in  the  withers. 

"  My  God  ! "  he  cried,  while  the  tears  started  to 
his  eyes,  "  am  I  awake,  or  am  I  dreaming  ?  " 

"  What  in  the  world  is  the  matter  ?  "  inquired  his 
comrade,  anxiously. 

"  It  is  Lady  Clare !  By  the  heavens,  it  is  Lady 
Clare !  " 

"That  old  ramshackle  of  a  lumber  nag  whose 
every  rib  you  can  count  through  her  skin  is  your 


LADY  CLARE  177 

beautiful  thoroughbred  ?  "  ejaculated  his  friend,  in- 
credulously.    "  Come  now,  don't  be  a  goose." 

"  I'll  tell  you  of  it  some  other  time,"  said  Erik, 
quietly;  "but  there's  not  a  shadow  of  a  doubt  that 
this  is  Lady  Clare." 

Yes,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  it  was  indeed  Lady 
Clare.  But  oh,  who  would  have  recognized  in  this 
skeleton,  covered  with  a  rusty-black  skin  and  tousled 
mane  and  forelock  in  which  chaff  and  dirt  were  en- 
tangled— who  would  have  recognized  in  this  droop- 
ing and  rickety  creature  the  proud,  the  dainty,  the 
exquisite  Lady  Clare  ?  Her  beautiful  tail,  which 
had  once  been  her  pride,  was  now  a  mere  scanty 
wisp ;  and  a  sharp,  gnarled  ridge  running  along  the 
entire  length  of  her  back  showed  every  vertebra  of 
her  spine  through  the  notched  and  scarred  skin. 
Poor  Lady  Clare,  she  had  seen  hard  usage.  But 
now  the  days  of  her  tribulations  are  at  an  end.  It 
did  not  take  Erik  long  to  find  the  half-tipsy  lumber- 
man who  was  Lady  Clare's  owner ;  nor  to  agree  with 
him  on  the  price  for  which  he  was  willing  to  part 
with  her. 

There  is  but  little  more  to  relate.  By  inter- 
views and  correspondence  with  the  different  par- 
ties through  whose  hands  the  mare  had  passed, 
Erik  succeeded  in  tracing  her  to  Tollef  Morud,  the 
ex-groom  of  John  Garvestad.  On  being  promised 
immunity  from  prosecution,  he  was  induced  to  con- 
fess that  he  had  been  hired  by  his  former  master  to 

12 


i/S  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

arrange  the  nocturnal  fight  between  Lady  Clare  and 
Valders-Roan,  and  had  been  paid  ten  dollars  for 
stealing  the  mare  when  she  had  been  sufficiently 
damaged.  John  Garvestad  had  himself  watched 
the  fight  from  behind  the  fence,  and  had  laughed 
fit  to  split  his  sides,  until  Valders-Roan  seemed  on 
the  point  of  being  worsted.  Then  he  had  inter- 
fered to  separate  them,  and  Tollef  had  led  Lady 
Clare  away,  bleeding  from  a  dozen  wounds,  and  had 
hidden  her  in  a  deserted  lumberman's  shed  near  the 
saeter  where  the  searchers  had  overtaken  him. 

Having  obtained  these  facts,  Erik  took  pains  to 
let  John  Garvestad  know  that  the  chain  of  evidence 
against  him  was  complete,  and  if  he  had  had  his 
own  way  he  would  not  have  rested  until  his  enemy 
had  suffered  the  full  penalty  of  the  law.  But  John 
Garvestad,  suspecting  what  was  in  the  young  man's 
mind,  suddenly  divested  himself  of  his  pride,  and 
cringing  like  a  whipped  dog,  came  and  asked  Erik's 
pardon,  entreating  him  not  to  prosecute. 

As  for  Lady  Clare,  she  never  recovered  her  lost 
beauty.  A  pretty  fair-looking  mare  she  became,  to 
be  sure,  when  good  feeding  and  careful  grooming 
had  made  her  fat  and  glossy  once  more.  A  long 
and  contented  old  age  is,  no  doubt,  in  store  for  her. 
Having  known  evil  days,  she  appreciates  the  bless- 
ings which  the  change  in  her  fate  has  brought  her. 
The  captain  declares  she  is  the  best-tempered  and 
steadiest  horse  in  his  stable. 


BONNYBOY 


I. 


*'  Oh,  you  never  will  amount  to  anything, 
Bonnyboy  !  "  said  Bonnyboy's  father,  when  he  had 
vainly  tried  to  show  him  how  to  use  a  gouge  ;  for 
Bonnyboy  had  just  succeeded  in  gouging  a  piece 
out  of  his  hand,  and  was  standing  helplessly,  letting 
his  blood  drop  on  an  engraving  of  Napoleon  at 
Austerlitz,  which  had  been  sent  to  his  father  for 
framing.  The  trouble  with  Bonnyboy  was  that  he 
was  not  only  awkward — left-handed  in  everything 
he  undertook,  as  his  father  put  it — but  he  was  so 
very  good-natured  that  it  was  impossible  to  get 
angry  with  him.  His  large  blue  innocent  eyes  had 
a  childlike  wonder  in  them,  when  he  had  done  any- 
thing particularly  stupid,  and  he  was  so  willing  and 
anxious  to  learn,  that  his  ill-success  seemed  a  reason 
for  pity  rather  than  for  wrath.  Grim  Norvold, 
Bonnyboy's  father,  was  by  trade  a  carpenter,  and 
handy  as  he  was  at  all  kinds  of  tinkering,  he  found 
it  particularly  exasperating  to  have  a  son  who  was 
so  left-handed.  There  was  scarcely  anything  Grim 
could   not  do.     He  could  take  a  watch  apart  and 


l80  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

put  it  together  again  ;  he  could  mend  a  harness  if 
necessary ;  he  could  make  a  wagon  ;  nay,  he  could 
even  doctor  a  horse  when  it  got  spavin  or  glanders. 
He  was  a  sort  of  jack-of-all-trades,  and  a  very  use- 
ful man  in  a  valley  where  mechanics  were  few  and 
transportation  difficult.  He  loved  work  for  its  own 
sake,  and  was  ill  at  ease  when  he  had  not  a  tool  in 
his  hand.  The  exercise  of  his  skill  gave  him  a 
pleasure  akin  to  that  which  the  fish  feels  in  swim- 
ming, the  eagle  in  soaring,  and  the  lark  in  singing. 
A  finless  fish,  a  wingless  eagle,  or  a  dumb  lark  could 
not  have  been  more  miserable  than  Grim  was  when 
a  succession  of  holidays,  like  Easter  or  Christmas, 
compelled  him  to  be  idle. 

When  his  son  was  born  his  chief  delight  was  to 
think  of  the  time  when  he  should  be  old  enough  to 
handle  a  tool,  and  learn  the  secrets  of  his  father's 
trade.  Therefore,  from  the  time  the  boy  was  old 
enough  to  sit  or  to  crawl  in  the  shavings  without 
getting  his  mouth  and  eyes  full  of  sawdust,  he  gave 
him  a  place  under  the  turning  bench,  and  talked  or 
sang  to  him  while  he  worked.  And  Bonnyboy,  in 
the  meanwhile  amused  himself  by  getting  into  all 
sorts  of  mischief.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  belief 
that  a  good  workman  must  grow  up  in  the  atmos- 
phere of  the  shop,  Grim  would  have  lost  patience 
with  his  son  and  sent  him  back  to  his  mother,  who 
had  better  facilities  for  taking  care  of  him.  But  the 
fact  was  he  was  too  fond  of  the  boy  to  be  able  to 


BOXNYBOY  l8l 

dispense  with  him,  and  he  would  rather  bear  the 
loss  resulting  from  his  mischief  than  miss  his  prattle 
and  his  pretty  dimpled  face. 

It  was  when  the  child  was  eighteen  or  nineteen 
months  old  that  he  acquired  the  name  Bonnyboy. 
A  woman  of  the  neighborhood,  who  had  called  at 
the  shop  with  some  article  of  furniture  which  she 
wanted  to  have  mended,  discovered  the  infant  in 
the  act  of  investigating  a  pot  of  blue  paint,  with 
a  part  of  which  he  had  accidentally  decorated  his 
face. 

"  Good  gracious  !  what  is  that  ugly  thing  you 
have  got  under  your  turning  bench?"  she  cried, 
staring  at  the  child  in  amazement. 

"  No,  he  is  not  an  ugly  thing,"  replied  the  father, 
with  resentment;  "he  is  a  bonny  boy,  that's  what 
he  is." 

The  woman,  in  order  to  mollify  Grim,  turned  to 
the  boy,  and  asked,  with  her  sweetest  manner, 
**  What  is  your  name,  child  ?  " 

"Bonny  boy,"  murmured  the  child,  with  a 
vaguely  offended  air — "bonny  boy." 

And  from  that  day  the  name  Bonnyboy  clung  to 
him. 

II. 

To  teach  Bonnyboy  the  trade  of  a  carpenter  was 
a  task  which  would  have  exhausted  the  patience  of 
all  the  saints  in  the  calendar.     If  there  was  any  pos- 


1 82  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

sible  way  of  doing  a  thing  wrong,  Bonnyboy  would 
be  sure  to  hit  upon  that  way.  When  he  was  eleven 
years  old  he  chopped  off  the  third  joint  of  the  ring- 
finger  on  his  right  hand  with  a  cutting  tool  while 
working  the  turning-lathe  ;  and  by  the  time  he  was 
fourteen  it  seemed  a  marvel  to  his  father  that  he 
had  any  fingers  left  at  all.  But  Bonnyboy  perse- 
vered in  spite  of  all  difficulties,  was  always  cheerful 
and  of  good  courage,  and  when  his  father,  in  de- 
spair, exclaimed  :  "  Well,  you  will  never  amount  to 
anything,  Bonnyboy,"  he  would  look  up  with  his 
slow,  winning  smile  and  say  : 

"  Don't  worry,  father.     Better  luck  next  time." 

"  But,  my  dear  boy,  how  can  I  help  worrying, 
when  you  don't  learn  anything  by  which  you  can 
make  your  Irving  ?  " 

"  Oh,  well,  father,"  said  Bonnyboy,  soothingly  (for 
he  was  beginning  to  feel  sorry  on  his  father's  ac- 
count rather  than  on  his  own),  "  I  wouldn't  bother 
about  that  if  I  were  you.  I  don't  worry  a  bit. 
Something  will  turn  up  for  me  to  do,  sooner  or  later." 

"  But  you'll  do  it  badly,  Bonnyboy,  and  then 
you  won't  get  a  second  chance.  And  then,  who 
knows  but  you  may  starve  to  death.  You'll  chop 
off  the  fingers  you  have  left ;  and  when  I  am  dead 
and  can  no  longer  look  after  you,  I  am  very  much 
afraid  you'll  manage  to  chop  off  your  head  too." 

**  Well,"  observed  Bonnyboy,  cheerfully,  "  in  that 
case  I  shall  not  starve  to  death." 


BONNYBOY  '  1 83 

Grim  had  to  laugh  in  spite  of  himself  at  the  pa- 
ternal way  in  which  his  son  comforted  him,  as  if  he 
were  the  party  to  be  pitied.  Bonnyboy's  unfailing 
cheerfulness,  which  had  its  great  charm,  began  to 
cause  him  uneasiness,  because  he  feared  it  was  but 
another  form  of  stupidity.  A  cleverer  boy  would 
have  been  sorry  for  his  mistakes  and  anxious  about 
his  own  future.  But  Bonnyboy  looked  into  the 
future  with  the  serene  confidence  of  a  child,  and 
nothing  under  the  sun  ever  troubled  him,  except 
his  father's  tendency  to  worry.  For  he  was  very 
fond  of  his  father,  and  praised  him  as  a  paragon  of 
skill  and  excellence.  He  lavished  an  abject  admira- 
tion on  everything  he  did  and  said.  His  dexterity 
in  the  use  of  tools,  and  his  varied  accomplishments 
as  a  watch-maker  and  a  horse-doctor,  filled  Bonny- 
boy with  ungrudging  amazement.  He  knew  it  was 
a  hopeless  thing  for  him  to  aspire  to  rival  such 
genius,  and  he  took  the  thing  philosophically,  and 
did  not  aspire. 

It  occurred  to  Grim  one  day,  when  Bonnyboy 
had  made  a  most  discouraging  exhibition  of  his 
awkwardness,  that  it  might  be  a  good  thing  to  ask 
the  pastor's  advice  in  regard  to  him.  The  pastor 
had  had  a  long  experience  in  educating  children, 
and  his  own,  though  they  were  not  all  clever,  prom- 
ised to  turn  out  well.  Accordingly  Grim  called 
at  the  parsonage,  was  well  received,  and  returned 
home  charged  to   the   muzzle   with   good   advice. 


1 84  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

The  pastor  lent  him  a  book  full  of  stories,  and  re- 
commended him  to  read  them  to  his  son,  and  after- 
ward question  him  about  every  single  fact  which 
each  story  contained.  This  the  pastor  had  found  to 
be  a  good  way  to  develop  the  intellect  of  a  back- 
ward boy. 


III. 


When  Bonnyboy  had  been  confirmed,  the  ques- 
tion again  rose  what  was  to  become  of  him.  He 
was  now  a  tall  young  fellow,  red-cheeked,  broad- 
shouldered,  and  strong,  and  rather  nice-looking.  A 
slow,  good-natured  smile  spread  over  his  face  when 
anyone  spoke  to  him,  and  he  had  a  way  of  flinging 
his  head  back,  when  the  tuft  of  yellow  hair  which 
usually  hung  down  over  his  forehead  obscured  his 
sight.  Most  people  liked  him,  even  though  they 
laucrhed  at  him  behind  his  back  ;  but  to  his  face 
nobody  laughed,  because  his  strength  inspired  re- 
spect. Nor  did  he  know  what  fear  was  when  he 
was  roused;  but  that  was  probably,  as  people 
thought,  because  he  did  not  know  much  of  any- 
thing. At  any  rate,  on  a  certain  occasion  he 
showed  that  there  was  a  limit  to  his  good-nature, 
and  when  that  limit  was  reached,  he  was  not  as 
harmless  a  fellow  as  he  looked. 

On    the   neighboring  farm  of    Gimlehaug   there 
was  a  wedding  to  which    Grim  and  his  son  were 


BONNYBOY  '  185 

invited.  On  the  afternoon  of  the  second  weddine- 
day — for  peasant  weddings  in  Norway  are  often  cel- 
ebrated for  three  days— a  notorious  bully  named 
Ola  Klemmerud  took  it  into  his  head  to  have  some 
sport  with  the  big  good-natured  simpleton.  So,  by 
way  of  pleasantry,  he  pulled  the  tuft  of  hair  which 
hung  down  upon  Bonnyboy's  forehead. 

"  Don't  do  that,"  said  Bonnyboy. 

Ola  Klemmerud  chuckled,  and  the  next  time  he 
passed  Bonnyboy,  pinched  his  ear. 

"  If  you  do  that  again  I  sha'n't  like  you,"  cried 
Bonnyboy. 

The  innocence  of  that  remark  made  the  people 
laugh,  and  the  bully,  seeing  that  their  sympathy 
was  on  his  side,  was  encouraged  to  continue  his 
teasing.  Taking  a  few  dancing  steps  across  the 
floor,  he  managed  to  touch  Bonnyboy's  nose  with 
the  toe  of  his  boot,  which  feat  again  was  rewarded 
with  a  burst  of  laughter.  The  poor  lad  quietly 
blew  his  nose,  wiped  the  perspiration  off  his  brow 
with  a  red  handkerchief,  and  said,  "  Don't  make  me 
mad,  Ola,  or  I  might  hurt  you." 

This  speech  struck  the  company  as  being  im- 
mensely funny,  and  they  laughed  till  the  tears  ran 
down  their  cheeks.  At  this  moment  Grim  entered, 
and  perceived  at  once  that  Ola  Klemmerud  was 
amusing  the  company  at  his  son's  expense.  He 
grew  hot  about  his  ears,  clinched  his  teeth,  and 
stared  challengingly  at  the  bully.     The  latter  began 


l86  BOYHOOD   IN-  NO 7^ WAY 

to  feel  uncomfortable,  but  he  could  not  stop  at  this 
point  without  turning  the  laugh  against  himself,  and 
that  he  had  not  the  courage  to  do.  So  in  order  to 
avoid  rousing  the  father's  wrath,  and  yet  preserving 
his  own  dignity,  he  went  over  to  Bonnyboy,  rum- 
pled his  hair  with  both  his  hands,  and  tweaked  his 
nose.  This  appeared  such  innocent  sport,  according 
to  his  notion,  that  no  rational  creature  could  take 
offence  at  it.  But  Grim,  whose  sense  of  humor  was 
probably  defective,  failed  to  see  it  in  that  light. 

"  Let  the  boy  alone,"  he  thundered. 

"  Well,  don't  bite  my  head  off,  old  man,"  replied 
Ola.  "  I  haven't  hurt  your  fool  of  a  boy.  I  have 
only  been  joking  with  him." 

"  I  don't  think  you  are  troubled  with  overmuch 
wit  yourself,  judging  by  the  style  of  your  jokes," 
was  Grim*s  cool  retort. 

The  company,  who  plainly  saw  that  Ola  was  try- 
ing to  wriggle  out  of  his  difficulty,  but  were  anxious 
not  to  lose  an  exciting  scene,  screamed  with  laugh- 
ter again  ;  but  this  time  at  the  bully's  expense. 
The  blood  mounted  to  his  head,  and  his  anger  got 
the  better  of  his  natural  cowardice.  Instead  of 
sneaking  off,  as  he  had  intended,  he  wheeled  about 
on  his  heel  and  stood  for  a  moment  irresolute, 
clinching  his  fist  in  his  pocket. 

"Why  don't  you  take  your  lunkhead  of  a  son 
home  to  his  mother,  if  he  isn't  bright  enough  to 
understand  fun  !  "  he  shouted. 


BONNYBOY  1 8/ 

"  Now  let  me  see  if  you  are  bright  enough  to  un- 
derstand the  same  kind  of  fun,"  cried  Grim.  Where- 
upon he  knocked  off  Ola's  cap,  rumpled  his  hair, 
and  gave  his  nose  such  a  pull  that  it  was  a  wonder 
it  did  not  come  off. 

The  bully,  taken  by  surprise,  tumbled  a  step 
backward,  but  recovering  himself,  struck  Grim  in 
the  face  with  his  clinched  fist.  At  this  moment, 
Bonnyboy,  who  had  scarcely  taken  in  the  situation, 
jumped  up  and  screamed,  *'  Sit  down,  Ola  Klem- 
merud,  sit  down  !  " 

The  effect  of  this  abrupt  exclamation  was  so 
comical,  that  people  nearly  fell  from  their  benches 
as  they  writhed  and  roared  with  laughter. 

Bonnyboy,  who  had  risen  to  go  to  his  father's  as- 
sistance, paused  in  astonishment  in  the  middle  of 
the  floor.  He  could  not  comprehend,  poor  boy, 
why  everything  he  said  provoked  such  uncontrol- 
lable mirth.  He  surely  had  no  intention  of  being 
funny.  So,  taken  aback  a  little,  he  repeated  to 
himself,  half  wonderingly,  with  an  abrupt  pause 
after  each  word,  '*  Sit — down — Ola — Klemmerud — 
sit — down  !  " 

But  Ola  Klemmerud,  instead  of  sitting  down,  hit 
Grim  repeatedly  about  the  face  and  head,  and  it 
was  evident  that  the  elder  man,  in  spite  of  his 
strength,  was  not  a  match  for  him  in  alertness.  This 
dawned  presently  upon  Bonnyboy's  slow  compre- 
hension, and  his  good-natured  smile  gave  way  to  a 


1 88  BOYHOOD  JN  NORWAY 

flush  of  excitement.  He  took  two  long  strides  across 
the  floor,  pushed  his  father  gently  aside,  and  stood 
facing  his  antagonist.  He  repeated  once  more  his 
invitation  to  sit  down  ;  to  which  the  latter  respond- 
ed with  a  slap  which  made  the  sparks  dance  before 
Bonnyboy's  eyes.  Now  Bonnyboy  became  really 
angry.  Instead  of  returning  the  slap,  he  seized  his 
enemy  with  a  sudden  and  mighty  grab  by  both  his 
shoulders,  lifted  him  up  as  if  he  were  a  bag  of  hay, 
and  put  him  down  on  a  chair  with  such  force  that  it 
broke  into  splinters  under  him. 

"  Will  you  now  sit  down  ?  "  said  Bonnyboy. 

Nobody  laughed  this  time,  and  the  bully,  not  dar- 
ing to  rise,  remained  seated  on  the  floor  among  the 
ruins  of  the  chair.  Thereupon,  with  imperturbable 
composure,  Bonnyboy  turned  to  his  father,  brushed 
off  his  coat  with  his  hands  and  smoothed  his  dis- 
ordered hair.  "  Now  let  us  go  home,  father," 
he  said,  and  taking  the  old  man's  arm  he  walked 
out  of  the  room.  But  hardly  had  he  crossed  the 
threshold  before  the  astonished  company  broke 
into  cheering. 

"  Good  for  you,  Bonnyboy !  "  "  Well  done,  Bon- 
nyboy !  "  "  You  are  a  bully  boy,  Bonnyboy  !  "  they 
cried  after  him. 

But  Bonnyboy  strode  calmly  along,  quite  uncon- 
scious of  his  triumph,  and  only  happy  to  have  got- 
ten his  father  out  of  the  room  safe  and  sound.  For 
a   good  while  they  walked  on   in   silence.     Then, 


1^ 


f 


C^~ 


v\^. 


•    ^\\n\\\\\^^x^xxX^^^ 


BONNY  BOY  1 89 

when  the  effect  of  the  excitement  had  begun  to 
wear  away,  Grim  stopped  in  the  path,  gazed  admir- 
ingly at  his  son,  and  said,  "  Well,  Bonnyboy,  you 
are  a  queer  fellow." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  answered  Bonnyboy,  blushing  with 
embarrassment  (for  though  he  did  not  comprehend 
the  remark,  he  felt  the  approving  gaze);  "  but  then, 
you  know,  I  asked  him  to  sit  down,  and  he 
wouldn't." 

"  Bless  your  innocent  heart !  "  murmured  his  fa- 
ther, as  he  gazed  at  Bonnyboy's  honest  face  with  a 
mingling  of  affection  and  pity. 


IV. 


When  Bonnyboy  was  twenty  years  old  his  fa- 
ther gave  up,  once  for  all,  his  attempt  to  make  a 
carpenter  of  him.  A  number  of  saw-mills  had  been 
built  during  the  last  years  along  the  river  down  in 
the  valley,  and  the  old  rapids  had  been  broken  up 
into  a  succession  of  mill-dams,  one  above  the  other. 
At  one  of  these  saw-mills  Bonnyboy  sought  work, 
and  was  engaged  with  many  others  as  a  mill  hand. 
His  business  was  to  roll  the  logs  on  to  the  little 
trucks  that  ran  on  rails,  and  to  push  them  up  to 
the  saws,  where  they  were  taken  in  charge  by  an- 
other set  of  men,  who  fastened  and  watched  them 
while  they  were  cut  up   into   planks.     Very  little 


f90  BOYHOOD   IN  NORWAY 

art  was,  indeed,  required  for  this  simple  task  ;  but 
strength  was  required,  and  of  this  Bonnyboy  had 
enough  and  to  spare.  He  worked  with  a  will  from 
early  morn  till  dewy  eve,  and  was  happy  in  the 
thought  that  he  had  at  last  found  something  that 
he  could  do.  It  made  the  simple-hearted  fellow 
proud  to  observe  that  he  was  actually  gaining  his 
father's  regard  ;  or,  at  all  events,  softening  the  dis- 
appointment which,  in  a  vague  way,  he  knew  that 
his  dulness  must  have  caused  him.  If,  occasionally, 
he  was  hurt  by  a  rolling  log,  he  never  let  any  one 
know  it ;  but  even  though  his  foot  was  a  mass  of 
agony  every  time  he  stepped  on  it,  he  would  march 
along  as  stiffly  as  a  soldier.  It  was  as  if  he  felt  his 
father's  eye  upon  him  long  before  he  saw  him. 

There  was  a  curious  kind  of  sympathy  between 
them  which  expressed  itself,  on  the  father's  part,  in 
a  need  to  be  near  his  son.  But  he  feared  to  avow 
any  such  weakness,  knowing  that  Bonnyboy  would 
interpret  it  as  distrust  of  his  ability  to  take  care  of 
himself,  and  a  desire  to  help  him  if  he  got  into 
trouble.  Grim,  therefore,  invented  all  kinds  of  trans- 
parent pretexts  for  paying  visits  to  the  saw-mills. 
And  when  he  saw  Bonnyboy,  conscious  that  his  eye 
was  resting  upon  him,  swinging  his  axe  so  that  the 
chips  flew  about  his  ears,  and  the  perspiration  rained 
from  his  brow,  a  dim  anxiety  often  took  posses- 
sion of  him,  though  he  could  give  no  reason  for  it. 
That  big  brawny  fellow,  with  the  frame  of  a  man 


BOXNYBOY  191 

and  the  brain  of  a  child,  with  his  guileless  face  and 
his  guileless  heart,  strangely  moved  his  compassion. 
There  was  something  almost  beautiful  about  him, 
his  father  thought ;  but  he  could  not  have  told 
what  it  was  ;  nor  would  he  probably  have  found 
any  one  else  that  shared  his  opinion.  That  frank 
and  genial  gaze  of  Bonnyboy's,  which  expressed 
goodness  of  heart  but  nothing  else,  seemed  to  Grim 
an  '*  open  sesame "  to  all  hearts ;  and  that  una- 
wakened  something  which  goes  so  well  with  child- 
hood, but  not  with  adult  age,  filled  him  with  ten- 
derness and  a  vague  anxiety.  "  My  poor  lad,"  he 
would  murmur  to  himself,  as  he  caught  sight  of 
Bonnyboy's  big  perspiring  face,  with  the  yellow 
tuft  of  hair  hanging  down  over  his  forehead,  "  clever 
you  are  not ;  but  you  have  that  which  the  clever- 
est of  us  often  lack." 


V. 


There  were  sixteen  saw-mills  in  all,  and  the  one 
at  which  Bonnyboy  was  employed  was  the  last  of 
the  series.  They  were  built  on  little  terraces  on 
both  banks  of  the  river,  and  every  four  of  them 
were  supplied  with  power  from  an  artificial  dam,  in 
which  the  water  was  stored  in  time  of  drought,  and 
from  which  it  escaped  in  a  mill-race  when  required 
for  use.  These  four  dams  were  built  of  big  stones, 
earthwork,  and  lumber,  faced  with  smooth  planks, 


192  BO  YIIO OD   IN  NOR  WA  Y 

over  which  a  small  quantity  of  water  usually  driz- 
zled into  the  shallow  river-bed.  Formerly,  before 
the  power  was  utilized,  this  slope  had  been  cov- 
ered with  seething  and  swirling  rapids — a  favor- 
ite resort  of  the  salmon,  which  leaped  high  in  the 
spring,  and  were  caught  in  the  box-traps  that  hung 
on  long  beams  over  the  water.  Now  the  salmon 
had  small  chance  of  shedding  their  spawn  in  the 
cool,  bright  mountain  pools,  for  they  could  not  leap 
the  dams,  and  if  by  chance  one  got  into  the  mill- 
race,  it  had  a  hopeless  struggle  against  a  current 
that  would  have  carried  an  elephant  off  his  feet. 
Bonnyboy,  who  more  than  once  had  seen  the  beau- 
tiful silvery  fish  spring  right  on  to  the  millwheel, 
and  be  flung  upon  the  rocks,  had  wished  that  he  had 
understood  the  language  of  the  fishes,  so  that  he 
might  tell  them  how  foolish  such  proceedings  were. 
But  merciful  though  he  was,  he  had  been  much  dis- 
couraged when,  after  having  put  them  back  into  the 
river,  they  had  promptly  repeated  the  experiment. 

There  were  about  twenty-five  or  thirty  men  em- 
ployed at  the  mill  where  Bonnyboy  earned  his 
bread  in  the  sweat  of  his  brow,  and  he  was,  on  the 
whole,  on  good  terms  with  all  of  them.  They  did, 
to  be  sure,  make  fun  of  him  occasionally  ;  but  some- 
times he  failed  to  understand  it,  and  at  other  times 
he  made  clumsy  but  good-humored  attempts  to  re- 
pay their  gibes  in  kind.  They  took  good  care,  how- 
ever, not   to  rouse  his  wrath,  for  the  reputation  he 


BONNYBOY  193 

had  acquired  by  his  treatment  of  Ola  Klemmerud 
made  them  afraid  to  risk  a  collision. 

This  was  the  situation  when  the  great  floods  of 
i88-  came,  and  introduced  a  spice  of  danger  into 
Bonnyboy's  monotonous  life.  The  mill-races  were 
now  kept  open  night  and  day,  and  yet  the  water 
burst  like  a  roaring  cascade  over  the  tops  of  dams, 
and  the  river-bed  was  filled  to  overflowinGf  with  a 
swiftly-hurrying  tawny  torrent,  which  filled  the  air 
with  its  rush  and  swash,  and  sent  hissing  showers  of 
spray  flying  through  the  tree-tops.  Bonnyboy  and 
a  gang  of  twenty  men  were  working  as  they  had 
never  worked  before  in  their  lives,  under  the  di- 
rection of  an  engineer,  who  had  been  summoned  by 
the  mill-owner  to  strengthen  the  dams  ;  for  if  but 
one  of  them  burst,  the  whole  tremendous  volume  of 
water  would  be  precipitated  upon  the  valley,  and 
the  village  by  the  lower  falls  and  every  farm  within 
half  a  mile  of  the  river-banks  would  be  swept  out 
of  existence.  Guards  were  stationed  all  the  way 
up  the  river  to  intercept  any  stray  lumber  that 
might  be  afloat.  For  if  a  log  jam  were  added  to  the 
terrific  strain  of  the  flood,  there  would  surely  be  no 
salvation  possible.  Yet  in  spite  of  all  precautions, 
big  logs  now  and  then  came  bumping  against  the 
dams,  and  shot  with  wild  gyrations  and  somer- 
saults down  into  the  brown  eddies  below. 

The  engineer,  who  was  standing  on  the  top  of  a 
log  pile,  had  shouted  until  he  was  hoarse,  and  ges- 
13 


194  BOYHOOD   TN  NORWAY 

ticulated   with   his  cane  until  his  arms  were  lame, 
but  yet  there  was  a  great  deal  to  do  before  he  could 
go  to  bed  with  an  easy  conscience.     Bonnyboy  and 
his  comrades,  who  had  had  by  far  the  harder  part  of 
the  task,  were  ready  to  drop  with  fatigue.     It  was 
now  eight   o'clock   in   the  evening,  and   they    had 
worked  since  six  in  the  morning,  and  had  scarcely 
had  time  to  swallow  their  scant  rations.     Some  of 
them  began  to  grumble,  and  the  engineer  had  to 
coax  and  threaten  them  to  induce  them  to  perse- 
vere for  another  hour.     The  moon  was  just  rising 
behind  the  mountain  ridges,  and  the  beautiful  val- 
ley lay,  with  its  green  fields,  sprouting  forests,  and 
red-painted  farm-houses,  at  Bonnyboy 's  feet.     It  was 
terrible  to  think  that   perhaps  destruction  was  to 
overtake  those  happy  and  peaceful  homes,  where 
men  had  lived  and  died  for  many  hundred  years. 
Bonnyboy  could  scarcely  keep  back  the  tears  when 
this   fear   suddenly   came   over  him.     Was  it   not 
strange  that,  though  they  knew  that   danger  was 
threatening,  they  made  not  the  slightest  effort  to 
save  themselves  ?     In  the  village  below  men  were 
still  working  in  their  forges,  whose  chimneys  belched 
forth  fiery  smoke,  and  the  sound  of  their  hammer- 
blows  could  be  heard  above  the  roar  of  the  river. 
Women  were  busy  with  their  household  tasks ;  some 
boys  were  playing  in  the  streets,  damming  up  the 
gutters  and   shrieking  with   joy  when   their  dams 
broke.      A   few   provident  souls   had   driven  their 


BONXYBOY  195 

cattle  to  the  neighboring  hills  ;  but  neither  them- 
selves nor  their  children  had  they  thought  it  neces- 
sary to  remove.  The  fact  was,  nobody  believed 
that  the  dams  would  break,  as  they  had  not  imagi- 
nation enough  to  foresee  what  would  happen  if  the 
dams  did  break. 

Bonnyboy  was  wet  to  the  skin,  and  his  knees 
were  a  trifle  shaky  from  exhaustion.  He  had  been 
cutting  down  an  enormous  mast-tree,  which  was 
needed  for  a  prop  to  the  dam,  and  had  hauled  it 
down  with  two  horses,  one  of  which  was  a  half- 
broken  gray  colt,  unused  to  pulling  in  a  team.  To 
restrain  this  frisky  animal  had  required  all  Bonny- 
boy's  strength,  and  he  stood  wiping  his  brow  with 
the  sleeve  of  his  shirt.  Just  at  that  moment  a  ter- 
rified yell  sounded  from  above  :  "  Run  for  your 
lives  !     The  upper  dam  is  breaking  !  " 

The  engineer  from  the  top  of  the  log-pile  cast  a 
swift  glance  up  the  valley,  and  saw  at  once  from  the 
increasing  volume  of  water  that  the  report  was  true. 

"  Save  yourselves,  lads  !  "  he  screamed.  "  Run  to 
the  woods ! " 

And  suiting  his  action  to  his  words,  he  tumbled 
down  from  the  log  pile,  and  darted  up  the  hill-side 
toward  the  forest.  The  other  men,  hearing  the 
wild  rush  and  roar  above  them,  lost  no  time  in  fol- 
lowing his  example.  Only  Bonnyboy,  slow  of 
comprehension  as  always,  did  not  obey.  Suddenly 
there  flared  up  a  wild  resolution  in  his  face.     He 


196  BOYHOOD   IN  NORWAY 

pulled  out  his  knife,  cut  the  traces,  and  leaped  upon 
the  colt's  back.  Lashing  the  beast,  and  shouting  at 
the  top  of  his  voice,  he  dashed  down  the  hill-side  at 
a  break-neck  pace. 

"  The  dam  is  breaking  !  "  he  roared.  "  Run  for 
the  woods !  " 

He  glanced  anxiously  behind  him  to  see  if  the 
flood  was  overtaking  him.  A  great  cloud  of  spray 
was  rising  against  the  sky,  and  he  heard  the  yells  of 
men  and  the  frenzied  neighing  of  horses  through  the 
thunderous  roar.  But  happily  there  was  time. 
The  dam  was  giving  way  gradually,  and  had  not  yet 
let  loose  the  tremendous  volume  of  death  and  deso- 
lation which  it  held  enclosed  within  its  frail  tim- 
bers. The  colt,  catching  the  spirit  of  excitement 
in  the  air,  flew  like  the  wind,  leaving  farm  after 
farm  behind  it,  until  it  reached  the  village. 

"  The  dam  is  breaking !  Run  for  your  lives  !  " 
cried  Bonnyboy,  with  a  rousing  clarion  yell  which 
rose  above  all  other  noises ;  and  up  and  down  the 
valley  the  dread  tidings  spread  like  wildfire.  In  an 
instant  all  was  in  wildest  commotion.  Terrified 
mothers,  with  babes  in  their  arms,  came  bursting 
out  of  the  houses,  and  little  girls,  hugging  kittens 
or  cages  with  canary-birds,  clung  weeping  to  their 
skirts ;  shouting  men,  shrieking  women,  crying  chil- 
dren, barking  dogs,  gusty  showers  sweeping  from 
nowhere  down  upon  the  distracted  fugitives,  and 
above   all   the  ominous,  throbbing,  pulsating   roar 


BONNY  BOY  197 

as  of  a  mighty  chorus  of  cataracts.  It  came  nearer 
and  nearer.  It  filled  the  great  vault  of  the  sky  with 
a  rush  as  of  colossal  wing-beats.  Then  there  came 
a  deafening  creaking  and  crashing;  then  a  huge 
brownish-white  rolling  wall,  upon  which  the  moon- 
li^Tht  crleamed  for  an  instant,  and  then  the  very 
trump  of  doom— a  writhing,  brawling,  weltering 
chaos  of  cattle,  dogs,  men,  lumber,  houses,  barns, 
whirling  and  struggling  upon  the  destroying  flood. 


VI. 


It  was  the  morning  after  the  disaster.     The  sun 
rose  red  and  threatening,  circled  with  a  ring  of  fiery 
mist.     People  encamped  upon  the  hill-side  greeted 
each  other  as  on   the   morn   of   resurrection.     For 
many  were  found  among  the  living  who  were  being 
mourned  as  dead.     Mothers  hugged  their  children 
with  tearful  joy,  thanking  God  that  they  had  been 
spared  ;  and  husbands  who  had  heard  through  the 
night  the  agonized  cries  of  their  drowning  wives, 
finding  them  at  dawn  safe  and  sound,  felt  as  if  they 
had  recovered  them  from   the  very  gates  of  death. 
When  all  were  counted,  it  was  ascertained  that  but 
very  few  of  the  villagers  had  been  overtaken  by  the 
flood.     The  timely  warning  had  enabled  all  to  save 
themselves,  except  some  who  in  their  eagerness  to 
rescue  their  goods  had  lingered  too  long.     Impover- 


198  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

ished  most  of  them  were  by  the  loss  of  their  houses 
and  cattle.  The  calamity  was  indeed  overwhelm- 
ing. But  when  they  considered  how  much  greater 
the  disaster  would  have  been  if  the  flood  had  come 
upon  them  unheralded,  they  felt  that  they  had 
cause  for  gratitude  in  the  midst  of  their  sorrow. 
And  who  was  it  that  brought  the  tidings  that 
snatched  them  from  the  jaws  of  death  ?  Well,  no- 
body knew.  He  rode  too  fast.  And  each  was  too 
much  startled  by  the  message  to  take  note  of  the 
messenger.  But  who  could  he  possibly  have  been  ? 
An  angel  from  Heaven,  perhaps  sent  by  God  in  His 
mercy.  That  was  indeed  more  than  likely.  The 
belief  was  at  once  accepted  that  the  rescuer  was  an 
angel  from  heaven.  But  just  then  a  lumberman 
stepped  forward  who  had  worked  at  the  mill  and 
said  :  "  It  was  Bonnyboy,  Grim  Carpenter's  son.  I 
saw  him  jump  on  his  gray  colt." 

Bonnyboy,  Grim  Carpenter's  son  .  It  couldn't  be 
possible.  But  the  lumberman  insisted  that  it  was, 
and  they  had  to  believe  him,  though,  of  course,  it 
was  a  disappointment.  But  where  was  Bonnyboy  ? 
He  deserved  thanks,  surely.  And,  moreover,  that 
gray  colt  was  a  valuable  animal.  It  was  to  be 
hoped  that  it  was  not  drowned. 

The  water  had  now  subsided,  though  it  yet  over- 
flowed the  banks  ;  so  that  trees,  bent  and  splintered 
by  the  terrific  force  of  the  flood,  grew  far  out  in  the 
river.      The  four  dams  had  all  been  swept  away, 


BONNYBOY  199 

and  the  tawny  torrent  ran  again  with  tumultuous 
rapids  in  its  old  channel.  Of  the  mills  scarcely  a 
vestige  was  left  except  slight  cavities  in  the  banks, 
and  a  few  twisted  beams  clinging  to  the  rocks  where 
they  had  stood.  The  ruins  of  the  village,  with  jag- 
ged chimneys  and  broken  walls,  loomed  out  of  a 
half-inundated  meadow,  through  which  erratic  cur- 
rents were  sweeping.  Here  and  there  lay  a  dead 
cow  or  dog,  and  in  the  branches  of  a  maple-tree  the 
carcasses  of  two  sheep  were  entangled.  In  this 
marshy  field  a  stooping  figure  was  seen  wading 
about,  as  if  in  search  of  something.  The  water  broke 
about  his  knees,  and  sometimes  reached  up  to  his 
waist.  He  stood  like  one  dazed,  and  stared  into  the 
brown  sw^irling  torrent.  Now  he  poked  something 
with  his  boat-hook,  now^  bent  down  and  pulled  some 
dead  thing  out  of  a  copse  of  shrubbery  in  which  it 
had  been  caught.  The  sun  rose  higher  in  the  sky, 
and  the  red  vapors  were  scattered.  But  still  the 
old  man  trudged  wearily  about,  with  the  stony  stare 
in  his  eyes,  searching  for  him  whom  he  had  lost. 
One  company  after  another  now  descended  from 
the  hill-sides,  and  from  the  high-lying  farms  which 
had  not  been  reached  by  the  flood  came  wagons 
with  provisions  and  clothes,  and  men  and  women 
eager  and  anxious  to  help.  They  shouted  to  the 
old  man  in  the  submerged  field,  and  asked  what  he 
was  looking  for.  But  he  only  shook  his  head,  as  if 
he  did  not  understand. 


200  BOYHOOD   IN  NORWAY 

"  Why,  that  is  old  Grim  the  carpenter,"  said 
someone.     "  Has  anybody  seen  Bonnyboy  ?  " 

But  no  one  had  seen  Bonnyboy. 

"  Do  you  want  help  ?  "  they  shouted  to  Grim  ; 
but  they  got  no  answer. 

Hour  after  hour  old  Grim  trudged  about  in  the 
chilly  water  searching  for  his  son.  Then,  about 
noon,  when  he  had  worked  his  way  far  down  the 
river,  he  caught  sight  of  something  which  made 
his  heart  stand  still.  In  a  brown  pool,  in  which 
a  half-submerged  willow-tree  grew,  he  saw  a  large 
grayish  shape  which  resembled  a  horse.  He 
stretched  out  the  boat-hook  and  rolled  it  over. 
Dumbly,  tearlessly,  he  stood  staring  into  the  pool. 
There  lay  his  son — there  lay  Bonnyboy  stark  and 
dead. 

The  cold  perspiration  broke  out  upon  Grim's 
brow,  and  his  great  breast  labored.  Slowly  he 
stooped  down,  drew  the  dead  body  out  of  the  water, 
and  tenderly  laid  it  across  his  knees.  He  stared 
into  the  sightless  eyes,  and  murmuring  a  blessing, 
closed  them.  There  was  a  large  -discolored  spot  on 
the  forehead,  as  of  a  bruise.  Grim  laid  his  hand 
softly  upon  it,  and  stroked  away  the  yellow  tuft  of 
hair. 

"  My  poor  lad,"  he  said,  while  the  tears  coursed 
down  his  wrinkled  cheeks,  "  you  had  a  weak  head, 
but  vour  heart,  Bonnyboy — your  heart  was  good." 


THE  CHILD  OF  LUCK 


I. 


A  SUNNY-TEMPERED  little  fellow  was  Hans,  and 
his  father  declared  that  he  had  brought  luck  with 
him  when  he  came  into  the  world. 

"  He  was  such  a  handsome  baby  when  he  was 
born,"  said  Inga,  his  mother ;  "  but  you  would 
scarcely  believe  it  now,  running  about  as  he  does 
in  forest  and  field,  tearing  his  clothes  and  scratching 
his  face." 

Now,  it  was  true,  as  Hans's  mother  said,  that  he 
did  often  tear  his  clothes  ;  and  as  he  had  an  indom- 
itable curiosity,  and  had  to  investigate  everything 
that  came  in  his  way,  it  was  also  no  uncommon 
thing  for  him  to  come  home  with  his  -face  stung  or 
scratched. 

"  Why  must  you  drag  that  child  with  you 
wherever  you  go,  Nils  ?"  the  mother  complained  to 
Hans's  father,  when  the  little  boy  was  brought  to 
her  in  such  a  disreputable  condition.  "  Why  can't 
you  leave  him  at  home  ?     What  other  man  do  you 


202  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

know  who  carries  a  six-year-old  little  fellow  about 
with  him  in  rain  and  shine,  storm  and  quiet  ?  " 

"  Well,"  Nils  invariably  answered,  "  I   like  him 
and  he  likes  me.     He  brings  me  luck." 

This  was  a  standing  dispute  between  Nils  and 
Inga,  his  wife,  and  they  never  came  to  an  agree- 
ment. She  knew  as  well  as  her  husband  that  be- 
fore little  Hans  was  born  there  was  want  and 
misery  in  their  cottage.  But  from  the  hour  the 
child  lifted  up  its  tiny  voice,  announcing  its  arrival, 
there  had  been  prosperity  and  contentment.  Their 
luck  had  turned.  Nils  said,  and  it  w^as  the  child  that 
had  turned  it.  They  had  been  married  for  four 
years,  and  though  they  had  no  one  to  provide  for 
but  themselves,  they  scarcely  managed  to  keep  body 
and  soul  together.  All  sorts  of  untoward  things 
happened.  Now  a  tree  which  he  was  cutting  down 
fell  upon  Nils  and  laid  him  up  for  a  month  ;  now 
he  got  water  on  his  knee  from  a  blow  he  received 
while  rolling  logs  into  the  chute;  now  the  pig  died 
which  was  to  have  provided  them  with  salt  pork 
for  the  winter,  and  the  hens  took  to  the  bush,  and 
laid  their  eggs  where  nobody  except  the  rats  and 
the  weasels  could  find  them.  But  since  little  Hans 
had  come  and  put  an  end  to  all  these  disasters,  his 
father  had  a  superstitious  feeling  that  he  could  not 
bear  to  have  him  away  from  him.  Therefore  every 
morning  when  he  started  out  for  the  forest  or  the 
river  he  carried    Hans  on  his  shoulder.     And   the 


7'HR    CHILD    OF  LUCK  203 

little  boy  sat  there,  smiling  proudly  and  waving  his 
hand  to  his  mother,  who  stood  in  the  door  looking 
longingly  after  him. 

"  Hello,  little  chap  ! "  cried  the  lumbermen,  when 
they  saw  him.  "  Good-morning  to  you  and  good 
luck !  " 

They  always  cheered  up,  however  bad  the 
weather  was,  when  they  saw  little  Hans,  for  no- 
body could  look  at  his  sunny  little  face  without  feel- 
ing something  like  a  ray  of  sunlight  stealing  into  his 
heart.  Hans  had  a  smile  and  a  wave  of  his  hand 
for  everybody.  He  knew  all  the  lumbermen  by 
name,  and  they  knew  him.  They  sang  as  they 
swung  the  axe  or  the  boat-hook,  and  the  work  went 
merrily  when  little  Hans  sat  on  the  top  of  the  log 
pile  and  shouted  to  them.  But  if  by  chance  he  was 
absent  for  a  day  or  two  they  missed  him.  No  songs 
were  heard,  but  harsh  words,  and  not  infrequently 
quarrels.  Now,  nobody  believed,  of  course,  that 
little  Hans  was  such  a  wizard  that  he  could  make 
people  feel  and  behave  any  better  than  it  was  in 
their  nature  to  do  ;  but  sure  it  was — at  least  the 
lumbermen  insisted  that  it  was  so — there  was  joy 
and  good-tempered  mirth  wherever  that  child  went, 
and  life  seemed  a  little  sadder  and  poorer  to  those 
who  knew  him  when  he  was  away. 

No  one  will  wonder  that  Nils  sometimes  boasted 
of  his  little  son.  He  told  not  once,  but  a  hundred 
times,  as  they  sat  about  the  camp-fire  eating  their 


204  BOYHOOD   IN  NORWAY 

dinner,  that  little  Hans  was  a  child  of  luck,  and 
that  no  misfortune  could  happen  while  he  was  near. 
Lumbermen  are  naturally  superstitious,  and  though 
perhaps  at  first  they  may  have  had  their  doubts, 
they  gradually  came  to  accept  the  statement  with- 
out question.  They  came  to  regard  it  as  a  kind  of 
right  to  have  little  Hans  sit  on  the  top  of  the  log 
pile  when  they  worked,  or  running  along  the  chute, 
while  the  wild-cat  strings  of  logs  shot  down  the 
steep  slide  with  lightning  speed.  They  were  not  in 
the  least  afraid  lest  the  logs  should  jump  the  chute, 
as  they  had  often  done  before,  killing  or  maiming 
the  unhappy  man  that  came  too  near.  For  was 
not  little  Hans's  life  charmed,  so  that  no  harm 
could  befall  him  ? 

Now,  it  happened  that  Inga,  little  Hans's  mother, 
came  one  day  to  the  river  to  see  how  he  was  get- 
ting on.  Nils  was  then  standing  on  a  raft  hooking 
the  floating  logs  with  his  boat-hook,  while  the  boy 
was  watching  him  from  the  shore,  shouting  to  him, 
throwing  chips  into  the  water,  and  amusing  himself 
as  best  he  could.  It  was  early  in  May,  and  the 
river  was  swollen  from  recent  thaws.  Below  the 
cataract  where  the  lumbermen  worked,  the  broad, 
brown  current  moved  slowly  along  with  sluggish 
whirls  and  eddies ;  but  the  raft  was  moored  by 
chains  to  the  shore,  so  that  it  was  in  no  danger  of 
getting  adrift.  It  was  capital  fun  to  see  the  logs 
come  rushing  down  the  slide,  plunging  with  a  tre- 


THE    CHILD    OF  LUCK  205 

mendous  splash  into  the  river,  and  then  bob  up  like 
live  things  after  hav  ng  bumped  against  the  bottom. 
Little  Hans  clapped  his  hands  and  yelled  with  de- 
light when  a  string  of  three  or  four  came  tearing 
along  in  that  way,  and  dived,  one  after  the  other, 
headlong  into  the  water. 

"  Catch  that  one,  papa  ! "  he  cried  ;  "  that  is  a 
good  big  fellow.  He  dived  like  a  man,  he  did.  He 
has  washed  the  dirt  off  his  snout  now  ;  that  was 
the  reason  he  took  such  a  big  plunge." 

Nils  never  failed  to  reach  his  boat-hook  after  the 
log  little  Hans  indicated,  for  he  liked  to  humor 
him,  and  little  Hans  liked  to  be  humored.  He  had 
an  idea  that  he  was  directing  his  father's  work,  and 
Nils  invented  all  sorts  of  innocent  devices  to  flatter 
little  Hans's  dignity,  and  make  him  think  himself 
indispensable.  It  was  of  no  use,  therefore,  for  poor 
Inga  to  beg  little  Hans  to  go  home  with  her.  He 
had  so  much  to  do,  he  said,  that  he  couldn't.  He 
even  tried  to  tear  himself  away  from  his  mother 
when  she  took  him  by  the  arm  and  remonstrated 
with  him.  And  then  and  there  the  conviction  stole 
upon  Inga  that  her  child  did  not  love  her.  She 
was  nothing  to  him  compared  to  what  his  father 
was.  And  was  it  right  for  Nils  thus  to  rob  her  of 
the  boy's  affection  ?  Little  Hans  could  scarcely  be 
blamed  for  loving  his  father  better;  for  love  is 
largely  dependent  upon  habit,  and  Nils  had  been 
his  constant  companion  since  he  was  a  year  old.     A 


206  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

bitter  sense  of  loneliness  and  loss  overcame  the 
poor  wife  as  she  stood  on  the  river-bank  pleading 
with  her  child,  and  finding  tha^.  she  annoyed  instead 
of  moving  him. 

"Won't  you  come  home  with  m.amma,  little 
Hans  ?  "  she  asked,  tearfully.  "  The  kitten  misses 
you  very  much  ;  it  has  been  mewing  for  you  all  the 
morning." 

"  No,"  said  little  Hans,  thrusting  his  hands  into 
his  pockets,  and  turning  about  with  a  manly  stride; 
**  we  are  going  to  have  the  lumber  inspector  here 
to-day,  and  then  papa's  big  raft  is  going  down  the 
river." 

"  But  this  dreadful  noise,  dear ;  how  can  you 
stand  it  ?  And  the  logs  shooting  down  that  slide 
and  making  such  a  racket.  And  these  great  piles 
of  lumber,  Hans — think,  if  they  should  tumble 
down  and  kill  you  !  " 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  afraid,  mamma,"  cried  Hans, 
proudly ;  and,  to  show  his  fearlessness,  he  climbed 
up  the  log  pile,  and  soon  stood  on  the  top  of  it, 
waving  his  cap  and  shouting. 

"  Oh,  do  come  down,  child — do  come  down  !  " 
begged  Inga,  anxiously. 

She  had  scarcely  uttered  the  words  when  she 
heard  a  warning  shout  from  the  slope  above,  and 
had  just  time  to  lift  her  eyes,  when  she  saw  a  big 
black  object  dart  past  her,  strike  the  log  pile,  and 
break   with   a   deafening   crash.     A  long  confused 


THE    CHILD    OF  LUCK  207 

rumble  of  rolling  logs  followed,  terrified  voices  rent 
the  air,  and,  above  it  all,  the  deep  and  steady  roar 
of  the  cataract.     She  saw,  as  through  a  fog,  little 
Hans,  serene  and   smiling  as  ever,  borne   down  on 
the  top  of  the  rolling   lumber,  now  rising  up  and 
skipping  from  log  to  log,  now  clapping  his  hands 
and   screaming   with  pleasure,  and   then   suddenly- 
vanishing    in    the     brown    writhing     river.       His 
laughter   was   still    ringing   in    her  ears ;  the  poor 
child,  he  did  not  realize  his  danger.     The  rumbling 
of  falling  logs  continued  with  terrifying  persistence. 
Splash !    splash !    splash  !    they    went,    diving    by 
twos,    by   fours,  and    by   dozens  at    the   very  spot 
where   her   child    had    vanished.     But    where  was 
little   Hans  ?     Oh,  where  was   he  ?     It   was  all  so 
misty,  so  unreal  and  confused.      She  could  not  tell 
whether  little  Hans  was  among  the  livine  or  amono- 
the  dead.     But    there,    all    of   a   sudden,  his  head 
popped  up  in  the  middle  of  the  river ;  and  there 
was  another  head  close  to  his — it  was  that   of  his 
father !     And  round  about  them  other  heads  bobbed 
up  ;  for  all  the  lumbermen  who   were  on  the  raft 
had  plunged  into  the  water  with  Nils  when  they 
saw  that  little  Hans  was  in  danger.     A  dozen  more 
were  running  down  the  slope  as  fast  as  their  legs 
could   carry   them  ;  and    they   gave   a  tremendous 
cheer  when  they  saw   little  Hans's  face  above  the 
water.     He  looked  a  trifle  pale  and  shivery,  and  he 
gave  a  funny  little  snort,  so  that  the  water  spurted 


208  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

from  his  nose.  He  had  lost  his  hat,  but  he  did  not 
seem  to  be  hurt.  His  little  arms  clung  tightly 
about  his  father's  neck,  while  Nils,  dodging  the 
bobbing  logs,  struck  out  with  all  his  might  for  the 
shore.  And  when  he  felt  firm  bottom  under  his 
feet,  and  came  stumbling  up  through  the  shallow 
water,  looking  like  a  drowned  rat,  what  a  welcome 
he  received  from  the  lumbermen  !  They  all  wanted 
to  touch  little  Hans  and  pat  his  cheek,  just  to 
make  sure  that  it  was  really  he. 

"  It  was  wonderful  indeed,"  they  said,  "  that  he 
ever  came  up  out  of  that  horrible  jumble  of  pitch- 
ing and  diving  logs.  He  is  a  child  of  luck,  if  ever 
there  was  one." 

Not  one  of  them  thought  of  the  boy's  mother, 
and  little  Hans  himself  scarcely  thought  of  her, 
elated  as  he  was  at  the  welcome  he  received  from 
the  lumbermen.  Poor  Inga  stood  dazed,  struggling 
with  a  horrible  feeling,  seeing  her  child  passed  from 
one  to  the  other,  while  she  herself  claimed  no  share 
in  him.  Somehow  the  thought  stung  her.  A 
sudden  clearness  burst  upon  her  ;  she  rushed  for- 
ward, with  a  piercing  scream,  snatched  little  Hans 
from  his  father's  arms,  and  hugging  his  wet  little 
shiverins:  form  to  her  breast,  fled  like  a  deer 
through  the  underbrush. 

From  that  day  little  Hans  was  not  permitted  to 
go  to  the  river.  It  was  in  vain  that  Nils  pleaded 
and   threatened.     His  wife  acted  so    unreasonably 


THE    CHILD    OF  LUCK  209 

when  that  question  was  broached  that  he  saw  it 
was  useless  to  discuss  it.  She  seized  little  Hans  as 
a  tigress  might  seize  her  young,  and  held  him  tight- 
ly clasped,  as  if  daring  anybody  to  take  him  away 
from  her.  Nils  knew  it  would  require  force  to  get 
his  son  back  again,  and  that  he  was  not  ready  to 
employ.  But  all  joy  seemed  to  have  gone  out  of 
his  life  since  he  had  lost  the  daily  companionship  of 
little  Hans.  His  work  became  drudgery  ;  and  all 
the  little  annoyances  of  life,  which  formerly  he  had 
brushed  away  as  one  brushes  a  fly  from  his  nose, 
became  burdens  and  calamities.  The  raft  upon 
which  he  had  expended  so  much  labor  went  to 
pieces  during  a  sudden  rise  of  the  river  the  night 
after  little  Hans's  adventure,  and  three  days  later 
Thorkel  Fossen  was  killed  outright  by  a  string  of 
logs  that  jumped  the  chute. 

"  It  isn't  the  same  sort  of  place  since  you  took 
little  Hans  away,"  the  lumbermen  would  often  say 
to  Nils.     "  There's  no  sort  of  luck  in  anything." 

Sometimes  they  taunted  him  with  want  of 
courage,  and  called  him  a  "  night-cap  "  and  a  "  hen- 
pecked coon,"  all  of  which  made  Nils  uncomfortable. 
He  made  two  or  three  attempts  to  persuade  his 
wife  to  change  her  mind  in  regard  to  little  Hans, 
but  the  last  time  she  got  so  frightened  that  she  ran 
out  of  the  house  and  hid  in  the  cow  stable  with  the 
boy,  crouching  in  an  empty  stall,  and  crying  as  if  her 
heart  would  break,  when  little  Hans  escaped  and 
14 


2 1 0  BO  YHO OD  IN  NOR  IV A  V 

betrayed  her  hiding-place.  The  boy,  in  fact,  sym- 
pathized with  his  father,  and  found  his  confinement 
at  home  irksome.  The  companionship  of  the  cat 
had  no  more  charm  for  him  ;  and  even  the  brindled 
calf,  which  had  caused  such  an  excitement  when  he 
first  arrived,  had  become  an  old  story.  Little  Hans 
fretted,  was  mischievous  for  want  of  better  employ- 
ment, and  gave  his  mother  no  end  of  trouble.  He 
longed  for  the  gay  and  animated  life  at  the  river, 
and  he  would  have  run  away  if  he  had  not  been 
watched.  He  could  not  imagine  how  the  lumber- 
men could  be  getting  on  without  him.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  all  work  must  come  to  a  stop  when  he 
was  no  longer  sitting  on  the  top  of  the  log  piles,  or 
standing  on  the  bank  throwing  chips  into  the  water. 
Now,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  they  were  not  getting 
on  very  well  at  the  river  without  little  Hans.  The 
luck  had  deserted  them,  the  lumbermen  said  ;  and 
whatever  mishaps  they  had,  they  attributed  to  the 
absence  of  little  Hans.  They  came  to  look  with 
ill-suppressed  hostility  at  Nils,  whom  they  regarded 
as  responsible  for  their  misfortunes.  For  they  could 
scarcely  believe  that  he  was  quite  in  earnest  in  his 
desire  for  the  boy's  return,  otherwise  they  could  not 
comprehend  how  his  wife  could  dare  to  oppose 
him.  The  weather  was  stormy,  and  the  mountain 
brook  which  ran  along  the  slide  concluded  to  waste 
no  more  labor  in  carving  out  a  bed  for  itself  in  the 
rock,  when  it  might  as  well  be  using  the  slide  which 


THE    CHILD    OF  LUCK  211 

it  found  ready  made.  And  one  fine  day  it  broke 
into  the  slide  and  half  filled  it,  so  that  the  logs, 
when  they  were  started  down  the  steep  incline,  sent 
the  water  flying,  turned  somersaults,  stood  on  end, 
and  played  no  end  of  dangerous  tricks  which  no  one 
could  foresee.  Several  men  were  badly  hurt  by 
beams  shooting  like  rockets  through  the  air,  and 
old  Mads  Furubakken  was  knocked  senseless  and 
carried  home  for  dead.  Then  the  lumbermen  held  a 
council,  and  made  up  their  minds  to  get  little  Hans 
by  fair  means  or  foul.  They  thought  first  of  send- 
ing a  delegation  of  four  or  five  men  that  very  morn- 
ing, but  finally  determined  to  march  up  to  Nils's 
cottage  in  a  body  and  demand  the  boy.  There 
were  twenty  of  them  at  the  very  least,  and  the  tops 
of  their  long  boat-hooks,  which  they  carried  on  their 
shoulders,  were  seen  against  the  green  forest  before 
they  were  themselves  visible. 

Nils,  who  was  just  out  of  bed,  was  sitting  on  the 
threshold  smoking  his  pipe  and  pitching  a  ball  to 
little  Hans,  who  laughed  with  delight  whenever  he 
caught  it.  Inga  was  bustling  about  inside  the 
house,  preparing  breakfast,  which  was  to  consist  of 
porridge,  salt  herring,  and  baked  potatoes.  It  had 
rained  during  the  night,  and  the  sky  was  yet  over- 
cast, but  the  sun  was  struggling  to  break  through 
the  cloud-banks.  A  couple  of  thrushes  in  the  alder- 
bushes  about  the  cottage  were  rejoicing  at  the 
change   in   the  weather,  and  Nils  was   listening  to 


212  BO  YHOOD   I IV  NOR  WA  Y 

their  song  and  to  his  son's  merry  prattle,  when  he 
caught  sight  of  the  twenty  lumbermen  marching  up 
the  hillside.  He  rose,  with  some  astonishment,  and 
went  to  meet  them.  Inga,  hearing  their  voices, 
came  to  the  door,  and  seeing  the  many  men, 
snatched  up  little  Hans,  and  with  a  wildly  palpi- 
tating heart  ran  into  the  cottage,  bolting  the  door 
behind  her.  She  had  a  vague  foreboding  that  this 
unusual  visit  meant  something  hostile-  to  herself, 
and  she  guessed  that  Nils  had  been  only  the 
spokesman  of  his  comrades  in  demanding  so  eagerly 
the  return  of  the  boy  to  the  river.  She  believed 
all  their  talk  about  his  luck  to  be  idle  nonsense  ; 
but  she  knew  that  Nils  had  unwittingly  spread  this 
belief,  and  that  the  lumbermen  were  convinced  that 
little  Hans  was  their  good  genius,  whose  presence 
averted  disaster.  Distracted  with  fear  and  anxiety, 
she  stood  pressing  her  ear  against  the  crack  in  the 
door,  and  sometimes  peeping  out  to  see  what  meas- 
ures she  must  take  for  the  child's  safety.  Would 
Nils  stand  by  her,  or  would  he  desert  her  ?  But 
surely — what  was  Nils  thinking  about  ?  He  was 
extending  his  hand  to  each  of  the  men,  and  receiv- 
ing them  kindly.  Next  he  would  be  inviting  them 
to  come  in  and  take  little  Hans.  She  saw  one  of 
the  men — Stubby  Mons  by  name — step  forward, 
and  she  plainly  heard  him  say  : 

"  We  miss  the  little  chap  down  at  the  river,  Nils. 
The  luck  has  been  against  us  since  he  left." 


THE    CHILD    OF  LUCK  21 3 

"  Well,  Mons,"  Nils  answered,  "  I  miss  the  little 
chap  as  much  as  any  of  you  ;  perhaps  more.  But 
my  wife — she's  got  a  sort  of  crooked  notion  that  the 
boy  won't  come  home  alive  if  she  lets  him  go  to 
the  river.  She  got  a  bad  scare  last  time,  and  it 
isn't  any  use  arguing  with  her." 

"But  won't  you  let  us  talk  to  her,  Nils?"  one 
of  the  lumbermen  proposed.  "  It  is  a  tangled 
skein,  and  I  don't  pretend  to  say  that  I  can 
straighten  it  out.  But  two  men  have  been  killed 
and  one  crippled  since  the  little  chap  was  taken 
away.  And  in  the  three  years  he  was  with  us  no 
untoward  thing  happened.  Now  that  speaks  for 
itself.  Nils,  doesn't  it?" 

"  It  does,  indeed,"  said  Nils,  with  an  air  of  con- 
viction. 

"  And  you'll  let  us  talk  to  your  wife,  and  see  if 
we  can't  make  her  listen  to  reason,"  the  man  ureed. 

"  You  are  welcome  to  talk  to  her  as  much  as  you 
like,"  Nils  replied,  knocking  out  his  pipe  on  the 
heel  of  his  boot  ;  "  but  I  warn  you  that  she's  mighty 
cantankerous." 

He  rose  slowly,  and  tried  to  open  the  door.  It 
was  locked.  "  Open,  Inga,"  he  said,  a  trifle  impa- 
tiently ;  "  there  are  some  men  here  who  want  to 
see  you." 


214  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 


II. 


Inga  sat  crouching  on  the  hearth,  hugging  little 
Hans  to  her  bosom.  She  shook  and  trembled  with 
fear,  let  her  eyes  wander  around  the  walls,  and  now 
and  then  moaned  at  the  thought  that  now  they 
would  take  little  Hans  away  from  her. 

"  Why  don't  you  open  the  door  for  papa  ?  "  asked 
little  Hans,  wonderingly. 

Ah,  he  too  was  against  her  !  All  the  world  was 
against  her !  And  her  husband  was  in  league  with 
her  enemies  ! 

"  Open,  I  say  !  "  cried  Nils,  vehemently.  "  What 
do  you  mean  by  locking  the  door  when  decent 
people  come  to  call  upon  us  ?  " 

Should  she  open  the  door  or  should  she  not  ? 
Holding  little  Hans  in  her  arms,  she  rose  hesitat- 
ingly, and  stretched  out  her  hand  toward  the  bolt. 
But  all  of  a  sudden,  in  a  paroxysm  of  fear,  she  with- 
drew her  hand,  turned  about,  and  fled  with  the 
child  through  the  back  door.  The  alder  bushes 
grew  close  up  to  the  walls  of  the  cottage,  and  by 
stooping  a  little  she  managed  to  remain  unobserved. 
Her  greatest  difficulty  was  to  keep  little  Hans  from 
shouting  to  his  father,  and  she  had  to  put  her  hand 
over  his  mouth  to  keep  him  quiet ;  for  the  boy,  who 
had  heard  the  voices  without,  could  not  understand 
why  he  should  not  be  permitted  to  go  out  and  con- 


THE    CHILD    OF  LUCK  21 5 

verse  with  his  friends  the  lumbermen.  The  wild 
eyes  and  agitated  face  of  his  mother  distressed  him, 
and  the  little  showers  of  last  night's  rain  which  the 
trees  shook  down  upon  him  made  him  shiver. 

"  Why  do  you  run  so,  mamma  ?  "  he  asked,  when 
she  removed  her  hand  from  his  mouth. 

"  Because  the  bad  men  want  to  take  you  away 
from  me,  Hans,"  she  answered,  panting. 

"  Those  were  not  bad  men,  mamma,"  the  boy 
ejaculated.  "  That  was  Stubby  Mons  and  Stutter- 
ing Peter  and  Lars  Skin-breeches.  They  don't 
want  to  hurt  me." 

He  expected  that  his  mamma  would  be  much  re- 
lieved at  receiving  this  valuable  information,  and  re- 
turn home  without  delay.  But  she  still  pressed  on, 
flushed  and  panting,  and  cast  the  same  anxious 
glances  behind  her. 

In  the  meanwhile  Nils  and  his  guests  had  entire- 
ly lost  their  patience.  Finding  his  persuasions  of  no 
avail,  the  former  began  to  thump  at  the  door  with 
the  handle  of  his  axe,  and  receiving  no  response,  he 
climbed  up  to  the  window  and  looked  in.  To  his 
amazement  there  was  no  one  in  the  room.  Think- 
ing that  Inga  might  have  gone  to  the  cow-stable,  he 
ran  to  the  rear  of  the  cottage,  and  called  her  name. 
Still  no  answer. 

"  Hans,"  he  cried,  "  where  are  you  ?  " 

But  Hans,  too,  was  as  if  spirited  away.  It  scarce- 
ly occurred  to  Nils,  until  he  had  searched  the  cow- 


-216  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

stable  and  the  house  in  vain,  that  his  wife  had  fled 
from  the  harmless  lumbermen.  Then  the  thought 
shot  through  his  brain  that  possibly  she  was  not 
quite  right  in  her  head  ;  that  this  fixed  idea  that 
everybody  wanted  to  take  her  child  away  from  her 
had  unsettled  her  reason.  Nils  grew  hot  and  cold 
in  the  same  moment  as  this  dreadful  apprehension 
took  lodgement  in  his  mind.  Might  she  not,  in  her 
confused  effort  to  save  little  Hans,  do  him  harm  ? 
In  the  blind  and  feverish  terror  which  possessed  her 
might  she  not  rush  into  the  water,  or  leap  over  a 
precipice  ?  Visions  of  little  Hans  drowning,  or 
whirled  into  the  abyss  in  his  mother's  arms,  crowd- 
ed his  fancy  as  he  walked  back  to  the  lumbermen, 
and  told  them  that  neither  his  wife  nor  child  was 
anywhere  to  be  found. 

"  I  would  ask  ye  this,  lads,"  he  said,  finally  :  "  if 
you  would  help  me  search  for  them.  For  Inga — I 
reckon  she  is  a  little  touched  in  the  upper  story — 
she  has  gone  off  with  the  boy,  and  I  can't  get  on 
without  little  Hans  any  more  than  you  can." 

The  men  understood  the  situation  at  a  glance, 
and  promised  their  aid.  They  had  all  looked  upon 
Inga  as  "  high-strung"  and  "  queer,"  and  it  did  not 
surprise  them  to  hear  that  she  had  been  frightened 
out  of  her  wits  at  their  request  for  the  loan  of  little 
Hans.  Forming  a  line,  with  a  space  of  twenty  feet 
between  each  man,  they  began  to  beat  the  bush, 
climbing    the  steep  slope   toward   the    mountains 


THE    CHILD    OF  LUCK  2\J 

Inga,  pausing  for  an  instant,  and  peering  out  be- 
tween the  tree  trunks,  saw  the  alder  bushes  wave  as 
they  broke  through  the  underbrush.  She  knew 
now  that  she  was  pursued.  Tired  she  was,  too,  and 
the  boy  grew  heavier  for  every  step  that  she  ad- 
vanced. And  yet  if  she  made  him  walk,  he  might 
run  away  from  her.  If  he  heard  his  father's  voice, 
he  would  be  certain  to  answer.  Much  perplexed, 
she  looked  about  her  for  a  hiding-place.  For,  as 
the  men  would  be  sure  to  overtake  her,  her  only 
safety  was  in  hiding.  With  tottering  knees  she 
stumbled  along,  carrying  the  heavy  child,  grabbing 
hold  of  the  saplings  for  support,  and  yet  scarcely 
keeping  from  falling.  The  cold  perspiration  broke 
from  her  brow  and  a  strange  faintness  overcame  her. 

"  You  will  have  to  walk,  little  Hans,"  she  said,  at 
last.  "  But  if  you  run  away  from  me,  dear,  I  shall 
lie  down  here  and  die." 

Little  Hans  promised  that  he  would  not  run 
away,  and  for  five  minutes  they  walked  up  a  stony 
path  which  looked  like  the  abandoned  bed  of  a 
brook. 

"  You  hurt  my  hand,  mamma,"  whimpered  the 
boy,  "  you  squeeze  so  hard." 

She  would  have  answered,  but  just  then  she 
heard  the  voices  of  the  lumbermen  scarcely  fifty 
paces  away.  With  a  choking  sensation  and  a  stitch 
in  her  side  she  pressed  on,  crying  out  in  spirit  for 
the  hills  to  hide  her  and  the  mountains  to  open 


2 1 8  BO  YHOOD  IN  NOR  WA  V 

their  gates  and  receive  her.     Suddenly  she  stood 
before  a  rocky  wall  some  eighty  or  a  hundred  feet 
hi^h.     She  could  go  no  farther.     Her  strength  was 
utterly  exhausted.     There  was  a  big  boulder  lying 
at  the  base  of  the  rock,   and  a  spreading  juniper 
half  covered  it.     Knowing  that  in  another  minute 
she  would   be  discovered,  she  flung  herself   down 
behind    the   boulder,  though   the   juniper  needles 
scratched  her  face,  and  pulled  little  Hans  down  at 
her    side.     But,  strange    to   say,    little    Hans   fell 
farther  than  she  had  calculated,  and  utterly  van- 
ished  from   sight.     She  heard  a  muffled  cry,  and 
reachine  her  hand  in  the  direction  where  he  had 
fallen,  caught   hold   of  his   arm.     A   strong,    wild 
smell  beat  against  her,    and  little  Hans,  as  he  was 
pulled    out,  was   enveloped   in   a  most   unpleasant 
odor.     But    odor  or   no    odor,    here  was  the  very 
hiding-place   she   had   been   seeking.     A    deserted 
wolf's  den,  it  was,  probably— at  least  she  hoped  it 
was  deserted  ;  for  if  it  was  not,  she  might  be  con- 
fronted with  even  uglier  customers  than  the  lum- 
bermen.    But  she  had   no  time    for  debating   the 
question,    for  she  saw  the  head   of  Stubby    Mons 
emerging  from  the  leaves,  and  immediately  behind 
him   came   Stuttering    Peter,   with   his   long   boat- 
hook.     Quick  as  a  flash  she  slipped  into  the  hole, 
and  dragged  Hans  after  her.     The  juniper-bush  en- 
tirely covered  the  entrance.     She  could  see  every- 
one who  approached,  without  being  seen.     Unhap- 


THE    CHILD    OF  LUCK  219 

pily,  the  boy  too  caught  sight  of  Stubby  Mons,  and 
called  him  by  name.  The  lumberman  stopped  and 
pricked  up  his  ears. 

"  Did  you  hear  anybody  call?"  he  asked  his  com- 
panion. 

"  N-n-n-n-a\v,  I  d-d-d-d-didn't,"  answered  Stutter- 
ing Peter.  *'  There  b-be  lots  of  qu-qu-qu-qu-eer 
n-noises  in  the  w-w-w-woods." 

Little  Hans  heard  every  word  that  they  spoke, 
and  he  would  have  cried  out  again,  if  it  hadn't  ap- 
peared such  great  fun  to  be  playing  hide-and-go- 
seek  with  the  lumbermen.  He  had  a  delicious 
sense  of  being  well  hidden,  and  had  forgotten  every- 
thing except  the  zest  of  the  game.  Most  exciting 
it  became  when  Stubby  Mons  drew  the  juniper- 
bush  aside  and  peered  eagerly  behind  the  boulder. 
Inga's  heart  stuck  in  her  throat  ;  she  felt  sure  that 
in  the  next  instant  they  would  be  discovered.  And 
as  ill-luck  would  have  it,  there  was  something  alive 
scrambling  about  her  feet  and  tugging  at  her  skirts. 
Suddenly  she  felt  a  sharp  bite,  but  clinched  her 
teeth,  and  uttered  no  sound.  When  her  vision 
again  cleared,  the  juniper  branch  had  rebounded 
into  its  place,  and  the  face  of  Stubby  Mons  was 
gone.  She  drew  a  deep  breath  of  relief,  but  yet 
did  not  dare  to  emerge  from  the  den.  For  one,  two, 
three  tremulous  minutes  she  remained  motionless, 
feeling  all  the  while  that  uncomfortable  sensation  of 
living  things  about  her. 


220  BO  YHO OD  IN  NOR  WA  V 

At  last  she  could  endure  it  no  longer.     Thrusting 
little  Hans  before  her,  she  crawled  out  of  the  hole, 
and  looked  back  into  the  small  cavern.     As  soon 
as  her  eyes  grew  accustomed  to  the  twilight  she 
uttered  a  cry  of  amazement,  for  out  from  her  skirts 
jumped  a  little  gray  furry   object,  and  two  frisky 
little  customers  of  the  same  sort  were  darting  about 
amone   the   stones    and    tree- roots.       The    truth 
dawned  upon  her,  and  it  chilled  her  to  the  marrow 
of  her  bones.     The  wolf's  den  was    not  deserted. 
The  old  folks  were  only  out  hunting,  and  the  shout- 
ing and    commotion    of   the   searching   party   had 
probably  prevented  them  from  returning  in  time  to 
look  after  their  family.     She  seized  little  Hans  by 
the  hand,  and  once  more  dragged  him  away  over 
the  rough  path.     He  soon  became  tired  and  fretful, 
and   in   spite  of  all  her  entreaties  began  to  shout 
lustily   for  his  father.     But  the  men  were  now  so 
far  away  that  they  could  not  hear  him.     He  com- 
plained of  hunger ;  and  when  presently  they  came 
to  a  blueberry  patch,  she  flung  herself  down  on  the 
heather   and   allowed   him    to   pick    berries.      She 
heard    cow-bells    and    sheep-bells    tinkling    round 
about  her,   and  concluded   that  she  could   not  be 
far  from   the  saeters,   or   mountain    dairies.     That 
was  fortunate,  indeed,  for  she  would  not  have  liked 
to  sleep  in  the  woods  with  wolves  and  bears  prowl- 
ing about  her. 

She  was  just  making  an  effort  to  rise  from  the 


THE    CHILD    OF  LUCK  221 


fc>> 


stone  upon  which  she  was  sitting,  when  the  big 
good-natured  face  of  a  cow  broke  through  the 
leaves  and  stared  at  her.  There  was  again  help  m 
need.  She  approached  the  cow,  patted  it,  and 
calling  little  Hans,  bade  him  sit  down  m  the 
heather  and  open  his  mouth.  He  obeyed  rather 
wonderingly,  but  perceived  his  mother's  intent 
when  she  knelt  at  his  side  and  began  to  milk  into 
his  mouth.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  never 
tasted  anything  so  delicious  as  this  fresh  rich  milk, 
fragrant  with  the  odor  of  the  woods  and  the  suc- 
culent mountain  grass.  When  his  hunger  was  sat- 
isfied, he  fell  again  to  picking  berries,  while  Inga 
refreshed  herself  with  milk  in  the  same  simple  fash- 
ion. After  having  rested  a  full  hour,  she  felt  strong 
enough  to  continue  her  journey  ;  and  hearing  the 
loor^  or  Alpine  horn,  re-echoing  among  the  moun- 
tains, she  determined  to  follow  the  sound.  It  was 
singular  what  luck  attended  her  in  the  midst  of  her 
misfortune.  Perhaps  it  was,  after  all,  no  idle  tale 
that  little  Hans  was  a  child  of  luck;  and  she  had 
done  the  lumbermen  injustice  in  deriding  their  faith 
in  him.  Perhaps  there  was  some  guiding  Provi- 
dence in  all  that  had  happened,  destined  in  the  end 
to  lead  little  Hans  to  fortune  and  glory.  Much 
encouraged  by  this  thought,  she  stooped  over  him 
and  kissed  him  ;  then  took  his  hand  and  trudged 
along  over  logs  and  stones,  through  juniper  and 
bramble  bushes. 


222  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 


"Mamma,"  said  little  Hans,  "where  are  you 
going?" 

"  I  am  going  to  the  saeter,''  she  answered ; 
"  where  you  have  wanted  so  often  to  go." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  follow  the  cows  ?  They 
are  going  there  too." 

Surely  that  child  had  a  marvellous  mind  !  She 
smiled  down  upon  him  and  nodded.  By  following 
the  cows  they  arrived  in  twenty  minutes  at  a  neat 
little  log  cabin,  from  which  the  smoke  curled  up 
gayly  into  the  clear  air. 

The  dairy-maids  who  spent  the  summer  there 
tending  the  cattle  both  fell  victims  to  the  charms 
of  little  Hans,  and  offered  him  and  his  mother  their 
simple  hospitality.  They  told  of  the  lumbermen 
who  had  passed  the  saeter  huts,  and  inquired  for 
her ;  but  otherwise  they  respected  her  silence,  and 
made  no  attempt  to  pry  into  her  secrets.  The  next 
morning  she  started,  after  a  refreshing  sleep,  west- 
ward toward  the  coast,  where  she  hoped  in  some 
way  to  find  a  passage  to  America.  For  if  little 
Hans  was  really  born  under  a  lucky  star — which 
fact  she  now  could  scarcely  doubt  —  then  Amer- 
ica was  the  place  for  him.  There  he  might  rise 
to  become  President,  or  a  judge,  or  a  parson,  or 
something  or  other ;  while  in  Norway  he  would 
never  be  anything  but  a  lumberman  like  his  fa- 
ther. Inga  had  a  well-to-do  sister,  who  was  a 
widow,  in  the  nearest  town,  and  she  would  borrow 


THE    CHILD    OF  LUCK  223 

enough  money  from  her  to  pay  their  passage  to 
New  York. 

It  was  early  in  July  when  little  Hans  and  his 
mother  arrived  in  New  York.  The  latter  had  re- 
pented bitterly  of  her  rashness  in  stealing  her  child 
from  his  father,  and  under  a  blind  impulse  travers- 
ing half  the  globe  in  a  wild-goose  chase  after  for- 
tune. The  world  was  so  much  bigger  than  she  in 
her  quiet  valley  had  imagined ;  and,  what  was 
worse,  it  wore  such  a  cold  and  repellent  look,  and 
was  so  bewildering  and  noisy.  Inga  had  been  very 
sea-sick  during  the  voyage ;  and  after  she  stepped 
ashore  from  the  tug  that  brought  her  to  Castle 
Garden,  the  ground  kept  heaving  and  swelling  under 
her  feet,  and  made  her  dizzy  and  miserable.  She 
had  been  very  wicked,  she  was  beginning  to  think, 
and  deserved  punishment ;  and  if  it  had  not  been 
for  a  vague  and  adventurous  faith  in  the  great  fut- 
ure that  was  in  store  for  her  son,  she  would  have 
been  content  to  return  home,  do  penance  for  her 
folly,  and  beg  her  husband's  forgiveness.  But,  in 
the  first  place,  she  had  no  money  to  pay  for  a  re- 
turn ticket ;  and,  secondly,  it  would  be  a  great  pity 
to  deprive  little  Hans  of  the  Presidency  and  all  the 
grandeur  that  his  lucky  star  might  here  bring  him. 

Inga  was  just  contemplating  this  bright  vision  of 
Hans's  future,  when  she  found  herself  passing 
through  a  gate,  at  which  a  clerk  was  seated. 


224  BO  YflO OD  IN  NOR  WA  V 

"  What  is  your   name  ?  "  he  asked,   through  an 
interpreter. 

"  Inga  Olsdatter  Pladsen." 

"Age?" 

"  Twenty-eight  a  week  after  Michaelmas." 

"  Single  or  married  ?  " 

*'  Married." 

"  Where  is  your  husband  ?  " 

"  In  Norway." 

*'  Are  you  divorced  from  him  ?  " 

"  Divorced — I !     Why,  no !     Who  ever  heard  of 
such  a  thing  ?  " 

Inga  grew  quite  indignant  at  the  thought  of  her 
being   divorced.     A   dozen    other    questions    were 
asked,   at    each    of  which   her   embarrassment    in- 
creased.    When,  finally,  she  declared  that  she  had 
no  money,  no  definite  destination,  and  no  relatives 
or  friends  in  the  country,  the  examination  was  cut 
short,   and  after  an  hour's  delay  and  a  wearisome 
cross-questioning  by  different  officials,  she  was  put 
on  board  the  tug,  and  returned  to  the  steamer  in 
which  she  had  crossed  the  ocean.     Four  dreary  days 
passed  ;  then   there  was  a  tremendous  commotion 
on  deck :   blowing  of   whistles,    roaring   of   steam, 
playing  of  bands,  bumping  of  trunks  and  boxes,  and 
finally  the  steady  pulsation  of  the  engines  as  the 
big  ship  stood  out  to  sea.     After  nine  days  of  dis- 
comfort in  the  stuffy  steerage  and  thirty-six  hours 
of   downright    misery   while    crossing   the   stormy 


THE    CHILD    OF  LUCK  22 S 

North  Sea,  Inga  found  herself  once  more  in  the 
land  of  her  birth.  Full  of  humiliation  and  shame 
she  met  her  husband  at  the  railroad  station,  and 
prepared  herself  for  a  deluge  of  harsh  words  and 
reproaches.  But  instead  of  that  he  patted  her 
gently  on  the  head,  and  clasped  little  Hans  in  his 
arms  and  kissed  him.  They  said  very  little  to 
each  other  as  they  rode  homeward  in  the  cars ;  but 
little  Hans  had  a  thousand  things  to  tell,  and  his 
father  was  delighted  to  hear  them.  In  the  even- 
ing, when  they  had  reached  their  native  valley, 
and  the  boy  was  asleep,  Inga  plucked  up  courage 
and  said,  "  Nils,  it  is  all  a  mistake  about  little 
Hans's  luck." 

"  Mistake  !  Why,  no,"  cried  Nils.  "  What 
greater  luck  could  he  have  than  to  be  brought 
safely  home  to  his  father  ?  " 

Inga  had  indeed  hoped  for  more  ;  but  she  said 
nothing.  Nevertheless,  fate  still  had  strange  things 
in  store  for  little  Hans.  The  story  of  his  mother's 
flight  to  and  return  from  America  was  picked  up  by 
some  enterprising  journalist,  who  made  a  most 
touching  romance  of  it.  Hundreds  of  inquiries  re- 
garding little  Hans  poured  in  upon  the  pastor  and 
the  postmaster;  and  offers  to  adopt  him,  educate 
him,  and  I  know  not  what  else,  were  made  to  his 
parents.  But  Nils  would  hear  of  no  adoption  ; 
nor  would  he  consent  to  any  plan  that  separated 
him  from  the  boy.  When,  however,  he  was  given 
15 


226  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

a  position  as  superintendent  of  a  lumber  yard  in 
the  town,  and  prosperity  began  to  smile  upon  him, 
he  sent  little  Hans  to  school,  and  as  Hans  was  a 
clever  boy,  he  made  the  most  of  his  opportunities. 

And  now  little  Hans  is  indeed  a  very  big  Hans, 
but  a  child  of  luck  he  is  yet ;  for  I  saw  him  referred 
to  the  other  day  in  the  newspapers  as  one  of  the 
greatest  lumber  dealers,  and  one  of  the  noblest, 
most  generous,  and  public-spirited  men  in  Norway. 


THE   BEAR  THAT   HAD    A  BANK    AC- 
COUNT 


I. 

You  may  not  believe  it,  but  the  bear  I  am  going 
to  tell  you  about  really  had  a  bank  account!  He 
lived  in  the  woods,  as  most  bears  do ;  but  he  had  a 
reputation  which  extended  over  all  Norway  and 
more  than  half  of  England.  Earls  and  baronets 
came  every  summer,  with  repeating-rifles  of  the 
latest  patent,  and  plaids  and  field-glasses  and  port- 
able cooking-stoves,  intent  upon  killing  him.  But 
Mr.  Bruin,  whose  only  weapons  were  a  pair  of 
paws  and  a  pair  of  jaws,  both  uncommonly  good  of 
their  kind,  though  not  patented,  always  managed  to 
get  away  unscathed ;  and  that  was  sometimes  more 
than  the  earls  and  the  baronets  did. 

One  summer  the  Crown  Prince  of  Germany 
came  to  Norway.  He  also  heard  of  the  famous 
bear  that  no  one  could  kill,  and  made  up  his  mind 
that  he  was  the  man  to  kill  it.  He  trudged  for 
two  days  through  bogs,  and  climbed  through  glens 
and  ravines,  before  he  came  on  the  scent  of  a  bear, 


228  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

and  a  bear's  scent,  you  may  know,  is  strong,  and 
quite  unmistakable.  Finally  he  discovered  some 
tracks  in  the  moss,  like  those  of  a  barefooted  man, 
or,  I  should  rather  say,  perhaps,  a  man-footed  bear. 
The  Prince  was  just  turning  the  corner  of  a  project- 
ing rock,  when  he  saw  a  huge,  shaggy  beast  stand- 
ing on  its  hind  legs,  examining  in  a  leisurely  manner 
the  inside  of  a  hollow  tree,  while  a  swarm  of  bees 
were  buzzing  about  its  ears.  It  was  just  hauling 
out  a  handful  of  honey,  and  was  smiling  with  a 
grewsome  mirth,  when  His  Royal  Highness  sent  it 
a  bullet  right  in  the  breast,  where  its  heart  must 
have  been,  if  it  had  one.  But,  instead  of  falling 
down  flat,  as  it  ought  to  have  done,  out  of  defer- 
ence to  the  Prince,  it  coolly  turned  its  back,  and 
gave  its  assailant  a  disgusted  nod  over  its  shoulder 
as  it  trudged  away  through  the  underbrush.  The 
attendants  ranged  through  the  woods  and  beat  the 
bushes  in  all  directions,  but  Mr.  Bruin  was  no  more 
to  be  seen  that  afternoon.  It  was  as  if  he  had  sunk 
into  the  earth  ;  not  a  trace  of  him  was  to  be  found 
by  either  dogs  or  men. 

From  that  time  forth  the  rumor  spread  abroad 
that  this  Gausdale  Bruin  (for  that  was  the  name  by 
which  he  became  known)  was  enchanted.  It  was 
said  that  he  shook  off  bullets  as  a  duck  does  water ; 
that  he  had  the  evil  eye,  and  could  bring  misfort- 
une to  whomsoever  he  looked  upon.  The  peasants 
dreaded  to  meet  him,  and  ceased  to  hunt  him.     His 


THE  BEAR   THAT  HAD  A    DANK  ACCOUNT    229 

size  was  described  as  something  enormous,  his 
teeth,  his  claws,  and  his  eyes  as  being  diabolical  be- 
yond human  conception.  In  the  meanwhile  Mr. 
Bruin  had  it  all  his  own  way  in  the  mountains, 
killed  a  young  bull  or  a  fat  heifer  for  his  dinner 
every  day  or  two,  chased  in  pure  sport  a  herd  of 
sheep  over  a  precipice ;  and  as  for  Lars  Moe's  bay 
mare  Stella,  he  nearly  finished  her,  leaving  his  claw- 
marks  on  her  flank  in  a  way  that  spoiled  her  beauty 
forever. 

Now  Lars  Moe  himself  was  too  old  to  hunt ; 
and  his  nephew  was — well,  he  was  not  old  enough. 
There  was,  in  fact,  no  one  in  the  valley  who  was  of 
the  right  age  to  hunt  this  Gausdale  Bruin.  It  was 
of  no  use  that  Lars  Moe  egged  on  the  young  lads  to 
try  their  luck,  shaming  them,  or  offering  them  re- 
wards, according  as  his  mood  might  happen  to  be. 
He  was  the  wealthiest  man  in  the  valley,  and  his 
mare  Stella  had  been  the  apple  of  his  eye.  Heielt 
it  as  a  personal  insult  that  the  bear  should  have 
dared  to  molest  what  belonged  to  him,  especially 
the  most  precious  of  all  his  possessions.  It  cut  him 
to  the  heart  to  see  the  poor  wounded  beauty,  with 
those  cruel  scratches  on  her  thigh,  and  one  stiff, 
aching  leg  done  up  in  oil  and  cotton.  When  he 
opened  the  stable-door,  and  was  greeted  by  Stella's 
low,  friendly  neighing,  or  when  she  limped  forward 
in  her  box-stall  and  put  her  small,  clean-shaped 
head  on  his  shoulder,  then  Lars  Moe's  heart  swelled 


230  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

until  it  seemed  on  the  point  of  breaking.  And  so 
it  came  to  pass  that  he  added  a  codicil  to  his  will, 
setting  aside  five  hundred  dollars  of  his  estate  as  a 
reward  to  the  man  who,  within  six  years,  should 
kill  the  Gausdale  Bruin. 

Soon  after  that,  Lars  Moe  died,  as  some  said, 
from  grief  and  chagrin  ;  though  the  physician  af- 
firmed that  it  was  of  rheumatism  of  the  heart.  At 
any  rate,  the  codicil  relating  to  the  enchanted  bear 
was  duly  read  before  the  church  door,  and  pasted, 
among  other  legal  notices,  in  the  vestibules  of  the 
judge's  and  the  sheriff's  ofifices.  When  the  execu- 
tors had  settled  up  the  estate,  the  question  arose  in 
whose  name  or  to  whose  credit  should  be  deposited 
the  money  which  was  to  be  set  aside  for  the  benefit 
of  the  bear-slayer.  No  one  knew  who  would  kill 
the  bear,  or  if  any  one  would  kill  it.  It  was  a  puz- 
zling question. 

"  Why,  deposit  it  to  the  credit  of  the  bear,*'  said 
a  jocose  executor ;  "  then,  in  the  absence  of  other 
heirs,  his  slayer  will  inherit  it.  That  is  good  old 
Norwegian  practice,  though  I  don't  know  whether 
it  has  ever  been  the  law.'' 

"  All  right,"  said  the  other  executors,  *'  so  long 
as  it  is  understood  who  is  to  have  the  money,  it 
does  not  matter." 

And  so  an  amount  equal  to  $500  was  deposited 
in  the  county  bank  to  the  credit  of  the  Gausdale 
Bruin.     Sir  Barry  Worthington,  Bart.,  who  came 


THE   BEAR    THAT  HAD   A    BANK  ACCOUNT    23 1 

abroad  the  following  summer  for  the  shooting, 
heard  the  story,  and  thought  it  a  good  one.  So, 
after  having  vainly  tried  to  earn  the  prize  himself, 
he  added  another  $500  to  the  deposit,  with  the 
stipulation  that  he  was  to  have  the  skin. 

But  his  rival  for  parliamentary  honors,  Robert 
Stapleton,  Esq.,  the  great  iron-master,  who  had 
come  to  Norway  chiefly  to  outshine  Sir  Barry,  de- 
termined that  he  was  to  have  the  skin  of  that 
famous  bear,  if  any  one  was  to  have  it,  and  that,  at 
all  events.  Sir  Barry  should  not  have  it.  So  Mr. 
Stapleton  added  $750  to  the  bear's  bank  account, 
with  the  stipulation  that  the  skin  should  come  to 
him. 

Mr.  Bruin,  in  the  meanwhile,  as  if  to  resent  this 
unseemly  contention  about  his  pelt,  made  worse 
havoc  among  the  herds  than  ever,  and  compelled 
several  peasants  to  move  their  dairies  to  other 
parts  of  the  mountains,  where  the  pastures  were 
poorer,  but  where  they  would  be  free  from  his 
depredations.  If  the  $1,750  in  the  bank  had  been 
meant  as  a  bribe  or  a  stipend  for  good  behavior, 
such  as  was  formerly  paid  to  Italian  brigands,  it 
certainly  could  not  have  been  more  demoralizing 
in  its  effect ;  for  all  agreed  that,  since  Lars  Moe's 
death,  Bruin  misbehaved  worse  than  ever. 


232  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 


II. 


There  was  an  odd  clause  in  Lars  Moe's  will  be- 
sides  the  codicil  relating  to  the  bear.     It  read  : 

"  I  hereby  give  and  bequeath  to  my  daughter  Unna,  or, 
in  case  of  her  decease,  to  her  oldest  living  issue,  my  bay 
mare  Stella,  as  a  token  that  I  have  forgiven  her  the  sorrow 
she  caused  me  by  her  marriage." 

It  seemed  incredible  that  Lars  Moe  should  wish 
to  play  a  practical  joke  (and  a  bad  one  at  that)  on 
his  only  child,  his  daughter  Unna,  because  she  had 
displeased  him  by  her  marriage.  Yet  that  was  the 
common  opinion  in  the  valley  when  this  singular 
clause  became  known.  Unna  had  married  Thorkel 
Tomlevold,  a  poor  tenant's  son,  and  had  refused 
her  cousin,  the  great  lumber-dealer,  Morten  Janson, 
whom  her  father  had  selected  for  a  son-in-law. 

She  dwelt  now  in  a  tenant's  cottage,  northward 
in  the  parish  ;  and  her  husband,  who  was  a  sturdy 
and  fine-looking  fellow,  eked  out  a  living  by  hunt- 
ing and  fishing.  But  they  surely  had  no  accommo- 
dations for  a  broken-down,  wounded,  trotting  mare, 
which  could  not  even  draw  a  plough.  It  is  true 
Unna,  in  the  days  of  her  girlhood,  had  been  very 
fond  of  the  mare,  and  it  Is  only  charitable  to  sup- 
pose that  the  clause,  which  was  in  the  body  of  the 
will,   was  written   while  Stella  was  in   her  prime, 


THE   BEAK    THAT  HAD   A    BANK  ACCOUNT    233 

and  before  she  had  suffered  at  the  paws  of  the 
Gausdale  Bruin.  But  even  granting  that,  one 
could  scarcely  help  suspecting  malice  aforethought 
in  the  curious  provision.  To  Unna  the  gift  was 
meant  to  say,  as  plainly  as  possible,  "  There,  you 
see  what  you  have  lost  by  disobeying  your  father  ! 
If  you  had  married  according  to  his  wishes,  you 
would  have  been  able  to  accept  the  gift,  while  now 
you  are  obliged  to  decline  it  like  a  beggar." 

But  if  it  was  Lars  Moe's  intention  to  convey 
such  a  message  to  his  daughter,  he  failed  to  take  into 
account  his  daughter's  spirit.  She  appeared  plainly 
but  decently  dressed  at  the  reading  of  the  will,  and 
carried  her  head  not  a  whit  less  haughtily  than 
was  her  wont  in  her  maiden  days.  She  exhibited 
no  chagrin  when  she  found  that  Janson  was  her 
father's  heir  and  that  she  was  disinherited.  She 
even  listened  with  perfect  composure  to  the  reading 
of  the  clause  which  bequeathed  to  her  the  broken- 
down  mare. 

It  at  once  became  a  matter  of  pride  with  her 
to  accept  her  girlhood's  favorite,  and  accept  it  she 
did  !  And  having  borrowed  a  side-saddle,  she  rode 
■  home,  apparently  quite  contented.  A  little  shed, 
or  lean-to,  was  built  in  the  rear  of  the  house,  and 
Stella  became  a  member  of  Thorkel  Tomlevold's 
family.  Odd  as  it  may  seem,  the  fortunes  of  the 
family  took  a  turn  for  the  better  from  the  day  she 
arrived  ;    Thorkel   rarely  came  home    without    big 


234  BO  YHO OD  IiY  NOR VVA  Y 

game,  and  in  his  traps  he  caught  more  than  any 
three  other  men  in  all  the  parish. 

*'  The  mare  has  brought  us  luck,"  he  said  to  his 
wife.  "  If  she  can't  plough,  she  can  at  all  events 
pull  the  sleigh  to  church  ;  and  you  have  as  good  a 
right  as  any  one  to  put  on  airs,  if  you  choose." 

"  Yes,  she  has  brought  us  blessing,"  replied  Unna, 
quietly ;  "  and  we  are  going  to  keep  her  till  she 
dies  of  old  age." 

To  the  children  Stella  became  a  pet,  as  much  as 
if  she  had  been  a  dog  or  a  cat.  The  little  boy 
Lars  climbed  all  over  her,  and  kissed  her  regularly 
good-morning  when  she  put  her  handsome  head  in 
through  the  kitchen-door  to  get  her  lump  of  sugar. 
She  was  as  gentle  as  a  lamb  and  as  intelligent  as  a 
dog.  Her  great  brown  eyes,  with  their  soft,  liquid 
look,  spoke  as  plainly  as  words  could  speak,  expres- 
sing pleasure  when  she  was  patted ;  and  the  low 
neighing  with  which  she  greeted  the  little  boy, 
when  she  heard  his  footsteps  in  the  door,  was  to 
him  like  the  voice  of  a  friend.  He  grew  to  love 
this  handsome  and  noble  animal  as  he  had  loved 
nothing  on  earth  except  his  father  and  mother. 

As  a  matter  of  course  he  heard  a  hundred  times 
the  story  of  Stella's  adventure  with  the  terrible 
Gausdale  bear.  It  was  a  story  that  never  lost  its 
interest,  that  seemed  to  grow  more  exciting  the 
oftener  it  was  told.  The  deep  scars  of  the  bear's 
claws    in   Stella's  thigh  were   curiously  examined, 


THE   BEAR    THAT  HAD  A    BANK  ACCOUNT    235 

and  each  time  gave  rise  to  new  questions.  The 
mare  became  quite  a  heroic  character,  and  the  sug- 
gestion was  frequently  discussed  between  Lars  and 
his  little  sister  Marit,  whether  Stella  might  not  be 
an  enchanted  princess  who  was  waiting  for  some 
one  to  cut  off  her  head,  so  that  she  might  show 
herself  in  her  glory.  Marit  thought  the  experi- 
ment well  worth  trying,  but  Lars  had  his  doubts, 
and  was  unwilling  to  take  the  risk ;  yet  if  she 
brought  luck,  as  his  mother  said,  then  she  certainly 
must  be  something  more  than  an  ordinary  horse. 

Stella  had  dragged  little  Lars  out  of  the  river 
when  he  fell  overboard  from  the  pier ;  and  that, 
too,  showed  more  sense  than  he  had  ever  known  a 
horse  to  have. 

There  could  be  no  doubt  in  his  mind  that  Stella 
was  an  enchanted  princess.  And  instantly  the 
thought  occurred  to  him  that  the  dreadful  en- 
chanted bear  with  the  evil  eye  was  the  sorcerer, 
and  that,  when  he  was  killed,  Stella  would  resume 
her  human  guise.  It  soon  became  clear  to  him  that 
he  was  the  boy  to  accomplish  this  heroic  deed  ;  and 
it  was  equally  plain  to  him  that  he  must  keep  his 
purpose  secret  from  all  except  Marit,  as  his  mother 
would  surely  discourage  him  from  engaging  in  so 
perilous  an  enterprise.  First  of  all,  he  had  to  learn 
how  to  shoot ;  and  his  father,  who  was  the  best  shot 
in  the  valley,  was  very  willing  to  teach  him.  It 
seemed   quite   natural  to   Thorkel   that  a  hunter's 


236  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

son  should  take  readily  to  the  rifle  ;  and  It  gave 
him  great  satisfaction  to  see  how  true  his  boy's  aim 
was,  and  how  steady  his  hand. 

"  Father,"  said  Lars  one  day,  "  you  shoot  so  well, 
why  haven't  you  ever  tried  to  kill  the  Gausdale 
Bruin  that  hurt  Stella  so  badly  ?  " 

"  Hush,   child  !  you   don't   know  what  you  are 
talking  about,"   answered  his    father;    "no    leaden 
bullet  will  harm  that  wicked  beast." 
"  Why  not  ?  " 

"I  don't  like  to  talk  about  it— but  it  is  well 
known  that  he  is  enchanted." 

"But  Avill  he  then  live  for  ever?  Is  there  no 
sort  of  bullet  that  will  kill  him  ?  "  asked  the  boy. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  don't  want  to  have  anything 
to  do  with  witchcraft,"  said  Thorkel. 

The  word  "  witchcraft  "  set  the  boy  to  thinking, 
and  he  suddenly  remembered  that  he  had  been 
warned  not  to  speak  to  an  old  woman  named 
Martha  Pladsen,  because  she  was  a  witch.  Now, 
she  was  probably  the  very  one  who  could  tell  him 
what  he  wanted  to  know.  Her  cottage  lay  close 
up  under  the  mountain-side,  about  two  miles  from 
his  home.  He  did  not  deliberate  long  before  going 
to  seek  this  mysterious  person,  about  whom  the 
most  remarkable  stories  were  told  in  the  valley. 
To  his  astonishment,  she  received  him  kindly,  gave 
him  a  cup  of  coffee  with  rock  candy,  and  declared 
that  she  had  long  expected  him.     The  bullet  which 


HIE   BEAR    THAT  HAD   A    BANK  ACCOUNT    23/ 

was  to  slay  the  enchanted  bear  had  long  been  in 
her  possession  ;  and  she  would  give  it  to  him  if  he 
would  promise  to  give  her  the  beast's  heart.  He 
did  not  have  to  be  asked  twice  for  that  ;  and  off  he 
started  gayly  with  his  prize  in  his  pocket.  It  was 
rather  an  odd-looking  bullet,  made  of  silver,  marked 
with  a  cross  on  one  side  and  with  a  lot  of  queer 
illegible  figures  on  the  other.  It  seemed  to  burn  in 
his  pocket,  so  anxious  was  he  to  start  out  at  once 
to  release  the  beloved  Stella  from  the  cruel  en- 
chantment. But  Martha  had  said  that  the  bear 
could  only  be  killed  when  the  moon  was  full  ;  and 
until  the  moon  was  full  he  accordingly  had  to 
bridle  his  impatience. 

III. 

It  was  a  bright  morning  in  January,  and,  as  it 
happened,  Lars's  fourteenth  birthday.  To  his  great 
delight,  his  mother  had  gone  down  to  the  judge's 
to  sell  some  ptarmigans,  and  his  father  had  gone 
to  fell  some  timber  up  in  the  glen.  Accordingly 
he  could  secure  the  rifle  without  being  observed. 
He  took  an  affectionate  good-by  of  Stella,  who 
rubbed  her  soft  nose  against  his  own,  playfully 
pulled  at  his  coat-collar,  and  blew  her  sweet,  warm 
breath  into  his  face.  Lars  was  a  simple-hearted 
boy,  in  spite  of  his  age,  and  quite  a  child  at  heart. 
He   had    lived   so   secluded   from   all   society,   and 


2T,^  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

breathed  so  long  the  atmosphere  of  fairy  tales,  that 
he  could  see  nothing  at  all  absurd  in  what  he  was 
about  to  undertake.  The  youngest  son  in  the 
story-book  always  did  just  that  sort  of  thing,  and 
everybody  praised  and  admired  him  for  it.  Lars 
meant,  for  once,  to  put  the  story-book  hero  into 
the  shade.  He  engaged  little  Marit  to  watch  over 
Stella  while  he  was  gone,  and  under  no  circum- 
stances to  betray  him — all  of  which  Marit  solemnly 
promised. 

With  his  rifle  on  his  shoulder  and  his  skees  on 
his  feet,  Lars  glided  slowly  along  over  the  glittering 
surface  of  the  snow,  for  the  mountain  was  steep, 
and  he  had  to  zigzag  in  long  lines  before  he  reached 
the  upper  heights,  where  the  bear  was  said  to  have 
his  haunts.  The  place  where  Bruin  had  his  win- 
ter den  had  once  been  pointed  out  to  him,  and 
he  remembered  yet  how  pale  his  father  was,  when 
he  found  that  he  had  strayed  by  chance  into  so 
dangerous  a  neighborhood.  Lars's  heart,  too,  beat 
rather  uneasily  as  he  saw  the  two  heaps  of  stones, 
called  "  The  Parson  "  and  "  The  Deacon,"  and  the 
two  huge  fir-trees  which  marked  the  dreaded  spot. 
It  had  been  customary  from  immemorial  time  for 
each  person  who  passed  along  the  road  to  throw  a 
large  stone  on  the  Parson's  heap,  and  a  small  one 
on  the  Deacon's ;  but  since  the  Gausdale  Bruin 
had  gone  into  winter  quarters  there,  the  stone  heaps 
had  ceased  to  grow. 


THE   BEAR    THAT  HAD  A    BANK  ACCOUNT    239 

Under  the  great  knotted  roots  of  the  fir-trees 
there  was  a  hole,  which  was  more  than  half-covered 
with  snow  ;  and  it  was  noticeable  that  there  was 
not  a  track  of  bird  or  beast  to  be  seen  anywhere 
around  it.  Lars,  who  on  the  way  liad  been  buoyed 
up  by  the  sense  of  his  heroism,  began  now  to  feel 
strangely  uncomfortable.  It  was  so  awfully  hushed 
and  still  round  about  him  ;  not  the  scream  of  a  bird 
— not  even  the  falling  of  a  broken  bough  was  to  be 
heard.  The  pines  stood  in  lines  and  in  clumps, 
solemn,  like  a  funeral  procession,  shrouded  in  sepul- 
chral white.  Even  if  a  crow  had  cawed  it  would 
have  been  a  relief  to  the  frightened  boy — for  it 
must  be  confessed  that  he  was  a  trifle  frightened — 
if  only  a  little  shower  of  snow  had  fallen  upon  his 
head  from  the  heavily  laden  branches,  he  would 
have  been  grateful  for  it,  for  it  would  have  broken 
the  spell  of  this  oppressive  silence. 

There  could  be  no  doubt  of  it ;  inside,  under 
those  tree-roots  slept  Stella's  foe — the  dreaded  en- 
chanted beast  who  had  put  the  boldest  of  hunters 
to  flight,  and  set  lords  and  baronets  by  the  ears  for 
the  privilege  of  possessing  his  skin.  Lars  became 
suddenly  aware  that  it  was  a  foolhardy  thing  he 
had  undertaken,  and  that  he  had  better  betake 
himself  home.  But  then,  again,  had  not  Witch- 
Martha  said  that  she  had  been  waiting  for  him  ; 
that  he  was  destined  by  fate  to  accomplish  this 
deed,   just  as  the  youngest   son  had   been   in   the 


240  B  O  YHO  OD  IN  NOR  WA  V 

story-book.  Yes,  to  be  sure,  she  had  said  that  i 
and  it  was  a  comforting  thought. 

Accordingly,  having  again  examined  his  rifle, 
which  he  had  carefully  loaded  with  the  silver  bul- 
let before  leaving  home,  he  started  boldly  forward, 
climbed  up  on  the  little  hillock  between  the  two 
trees,  and  began  to  pound  it  lustily  with  the  butt- 
end  of  his  gun.  Fie  listened  for  a  moment  tremu- 
lously, and  heard  distinctly  long,  heavy  sighs  from 
within. 

His  heart  stood  still.  The  bear  was  awake! 
Soon  he  would  have  to  face  it !  A  minute  more 
elapsed ;  Lars's  heart  shot  up  into  his  throat.  He 
leaped  down,  placed  himself  in  front  of  the  entrance 
to  the  den,  and  cocked  his  rifle.  Three  long  min- 
utes passed.  Bruin  had  evidently  gone  to  sleep 
again.  Wild  with  excitement,  the  boy  rushed  for- 
ward and  drove  his  skee-staff  straight  into  the  den 
with  all  his  might.  A  sullen  growl  was  heard,  like 
a  deep  and  menacing  thunder.  There  could  be  no 
doubt  that  now  the  monster  would  take  him  to 
task  for  his  impertinence. 

Again  the  boy  seized  his  rifle  ;  and  his  nerves, 
though  tense  as  stretched  bow-strings,  seemed 
suddenly  calm  and  steady.  He  lifted  the  rifle  to 
his  cheek,  and  resolved  not  to  shoot  until  he  had  a 
clear  aim  at  heart  or  brain.  Bruin,  though  Lars 
could  hear  him  rummaging  within,  was  in  no  hurry 
to  come  out.     But  he  sighed  and  growled  uproari- 


THE   BEAR    THAT  HAD   A    BANK  ACCOUNT    24 1 

ously,  and  presently  showed  a  terrible,  long-clawed 
paw,  which  he  thrust  out  through  his  door  and 
then  again  withdrew.  But  apparently  it  took  him 
a  long  while  to  get  his  mind  clear  as  to  the  cause 
of  the  disturbance;  for  fully  five  minutes  had 
elapsed  when  suddenly  a  big  tuft  of  moss  was 
tossed  out  upon  the  snow,  followed  by  a  cloud  of 
dust  and  an  angry  creaking  of  the  tree-roots. 

Great  masses  of  snow  were  shaken  from  the 
swaying  tops  of  the  firs,  and  fell  with  light  thuds 
upon  the  ground.  In  the  face  of  this  unexpected 
shower,  which  entirely  hid  the  entrance  to  the  den, 
Lars  was  obliged  to  fall  back  a  dozen  paces  ;  but,  as 
the  glittering  drizzle  cleared  away,  he  saw  an  enor- 
mous brown  beast  standing  upon  its  hind  legs,  with 
widely  distended  jaws.  He  was  conscious  of  no  fear, 
but  of  a  curious  numbness  in  his  limbs,  and  strange 
noises,  as  of  warning  shouts  and  cries,  filling  his 
ears.  Fortunately,  the  great  glare  of  the  sun- 
smitten  snow  dazzled  Bruin  ;  he  advanced  slowly, 
roaring  savagely,  but  staring  rather  blindly  before 
him  out  of  his  small,  evil-looking  eyes.  Suddenly, 
when  he  was  but  a  few  yards  distant,  he  raised 
his  great  paw,  as  if  to  rub  away  the  cobwebs  that 
obscured  his  sight.  It  was  the  moment  for  which 
the  boy  had  waited.  Now  he  had  a  clear  aim  ! 
Quickly  he  pulled  the  trigger ;  the  shot  rever- 
berated  from    mountain   to    mountain,  and  in  the 

same  instant   the  hucje  brown    bulk  rolled    in  the 
16 


242  BOYHOOD  IN  NORWAY 

snow,  gave  a  gasp,  and  was  dead  !  The  spell  was 
broken  !  The  silver  bullet  had  pierced  his  heart. 
There  was  a  curious  unreality  about  the  whole 
thing  to  Lars.  He  scarcely  knew  whether  he  was 
really  himself  or  the  hero  of  the  fairy-tale.  All  that 
was  left  for  him  to  do  now  was  to  go  home  and 
marry  Stella,  the  delivered  princess. 

The  noises  about  him  seemed  to  come  nearer  and 
nearer ;  and  now  they  sounded  like  human  voices. 
He  looked  about  him,  and  to  his  amazement  saw 
his  father  and  Marit,  followed  by  two  wood-cutters, 
who,  with  raised  axes,  were  running  toward  him. 
Then  he  did  not  know  exactly  what  happened  ;  but 
he  felt  himself  lifted  up  by  two  strong  arms,  and 
tears  fell  hot  and  fast  upon  his  face. 

"  My  boy !  my  boy  1  "  said  the  voice  in  his  ears, 
*'  I  expected  to  find  you  dead." 

"  No,  but  the  bear  is  dead,"  said  Lars,  inno- 
cently. 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  tell  on  you,  Lars,"  cried  Marit, 
"  but  I  was  so  afraid,  and  then  I  had  to." 

The  rumor  soon  filled  the  whole  valley  that  the 
great  Gausdale  Bruin  was  dead,  and  that  the  boy 
Lars  Tomlevold  had  killed  him.  It  is  needless  to 
say  that  Lars  Tomlevold  became  the  parish  hero 
from  that  day.  He  did  not  dare  to  confess  in  the 
presence  of  all  this  praise  and  wonder  that  at  heart 
he  was  bitterly  disappointed ;  for  when  he  came 
home,  throbbing  with  wild  expectancy,  there  stood 


THE   BEAR    THAT  HAD  A    BANK  ACCOUNT    243 

Stella  before  the  kitchen  door,  munching  a  piece  of 
bread  ;  and  when  she  hailed  him  with  a  low  whin- 
ny, he  burst  into  tears.  But  he  dared  not  tell  any 
one  why  he  was  weeping. 

This  story  might  have  ended  here,  but  it  has  a 
little  sequel.  The  $1,750  which  Bruin  had  to  his 
credit  in  the  bank  had  increased  to  $2,290  ;  and  it 
was  all  paid  to  Lars.  A  few  years  later,  Martin 
Janson,  who  had  inherited  the  estate  of  Moe  from 
old  Lars,  failed  in  consequence  of  his  daring  for- 
est speculations,  and  young  Lars  was  enabled  to 
buy  the  farm  at  auction  at  less  than  half  its  value. 
Thus  he  had  the  happiness  to  bring  his  mother 
back  to  the  place  of  her  birth,  of  which  she  had 
been  wrongfully  deprived  ;  and  Stella,  who  was 
now  twenty-one  years  old,  occupied  once  more  her 
handsome  box-stall,  as  in  the  days  of  her  glory. 
And  although  she  never  proved  to  be  a  princess, 
she  was  treated  as  if  she  were  one,  during  the  few 
years  that  remained  to  her. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY,        \ 

^^                                 BERKELEY 

THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 

,                                   STAMPED  BELOW 

Books  not  returned  on  time  are  subject  to  a  fine  of 
'          50c  per  volume  after  the  third  day  overdue,  increasing 
1,          to  $1.00  per  volume  after  the  sixth  day.     Books  not  in 

demand  may  be  renewed  if  application  is  made  before 

expiration  of  loan  period. 

mi  ife  1?«' 

0cr  21^  ^"^ 

y 

WAR  11 1927 

•> 

• 

/ 

/ 

H 

^Om-1,'22 

flHUiv'                              ■w:f^,iWMffma 

KiWBwesaK^WH»8BB"r 

^^  "wi^?"-' 


u 


6    19^^ 


Wx^:^ 


4^^3^vi 


111927' 


il30S4r 


UN> 


.IBRARY 


